Beautifully Broken
by elleindie
Summary: Can Bella reconcile the broken pieces of her heart before the wolves declare war? And when tragedy threatens to strike those Bella loves, she can't help but wonder: can the Cullens really prevent it? Post-Eclipse.
1. Of Marble and Paris

**Summary.  
**Edward and Bella's long-awaited wedding draws nearer. But amidst plan-making with Alice and doubts, fears, and anticipation for her looming transformation date, Jacob Black is a recurring problem; Bella's broken friendship with him tugs at her at every turn. Can she overcome a "blood" feud and put the two pieces of her heart back together before the werewolves declare war? Takes place shortly after _Eclipse._

**Disclaimer.  
**I don't own _Twilight _or any recognizeable characters, locations, etc. Don't sue me. Because you won't get much.

**-- -- --**

**Beautifully Broken  
**By The Volvo, aka Lasia.

I don't think she was trying to intentionally torture me. She was just overly enthusiastic, as was her way. And I couldn't really blame her; if I was completely honest with myself, the very thought of the event made me giddy, but the _event_ itself wasn't exactly why; it was more the meaning behind it, that after that one day of torture, I'd be able to spend every day with Edward. Perhaps, even, every day of forever. Just like he'd promised.

But then again, if I thought about it, Alice knew how I felt about the extravagant wedding she had planned, so perhaps the current situation _was_ her plan to torture me into oblivion; she knew my aversion to attention, and this wedding promised only that. And I had no desire for taffeta, roses, and pastels.

There was no question that the whole affair would be held here, on Cullen property. At first Edward and I had both considered our meadow, but Alice had quickly warned us against it; according to her, the weather was supposed to be uncharacteristically nice out on the date we had picked (July 19th, which was just under a month away from the deadline I had set, but still far enough away that I didn't argue) and risking exposure to the sun would not be a good idea. And, I realized in retrospect, that Charlie and Renee would be less than pleased to navigate through the woods in their formal dress, no matter the occasion.

And as the invitations had been sent (fancy, expensive white things that I didn't particularly care for), the only things left were just "the small details," as Alice labeled them; I imagined that could only mean things like floral statues, millions of balloons, and other expensive things that I could quite possibly destroy on my trip down the aisle.

I was already at the Cullen's; I spent most of my time there anyway, returning to Charlie's (I rarely thought of it as "home" anymore; the Cullen mansion felt so much more like home to me than any other place had or ever would) only to sleep, dress, and make sure Charlie didn't starve.

At the moment, Edward and I sat at his beautiful grand piano, as his fingers played gracefully with the keys, making intricate melodies out of nothing, while I watched his fingers twist in and out of the notes easily. Every now and then, he'd glance over at me, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his eyes searching.

This had happened no less than seven times when he finally stopped playing, his hands falling to his lap dejectedly, his face contorted in bewilderment. He glared at me, his ocher eyes drilling into mine, hoping futilely that he would catch a glimpse into my thoughts. When this failed, he sighed, his unneeded breath whooshing out of his lungs in a long, low hiss.

"_Please,_ tell me what you're thinking, Bella."

I shrugged; perhaps my carefully composed façade of content was falling down around me and I wasn't aware of it. I had been so careful around Edward to try and keep my face calm and happy; the slightest trace of apprehension and he'd call off the wedding, fearing that I wasn't ready. I cursed his intuitiveness, but silently thanked the otherworldly gods – or whatever unseen force ruled over his kind – for making me the one exception to his abilities.

The truth was that I _wasn't_ ready – but my trepidation wasn't in reaction to the looming date set for my crossover into the vampiric world. Part of it was, as I had told him countless times before, that I was worried of wedding young. It had been the thorn in my mother's bouquet; I hoped against all hopes that it wouldn't be mine, or I knew it would be the death of me. Loosing Edward outweighed any and all consequences, and the wedding date stayed set.

Realizing that I couldn't deliberate anymore, I cleared my throat and tapped an ebony key before me, the discordant hum vibrating through my body. I kept my eyes on it, and I heard the sound of a low chuckle deep in Edward's throat.

"E sharp, Bella," he said; I looked up to see his eyes smiling playfully, before softening. "Please."

I frowned at him. "Why do you have to do that?"

His expression flipped in reaction to my question. "Do what?"

I glared down at his hand, which was easing mine off the keys and into his lap, palm up. "Be so good at everything."

He chuckled again before pulling me closer to him, wrapping both long, cool arms around my waist and lowering his head to nuzzle his nose into the crook of my neck. I shivered as his lips brushed across my jaw.

"I'm hardly good, Bella," he whispered, his cool breath sending goose bumps across both of my shoulders. I swallowed.

"No," I managed to gasp; he was doing that dazzling thing again. "You're much too good." My voice came out barely below a sigh.

I felt his lips turn up in a grin against my neck before he pulled away, one hand on my chin. His eyes were staring into mine again, trying to unlock the inner workings of a mind that had no key.

"Bella, you're avoiding the question."

I looked down grimly; I could tell him about the trivial things that were tugging at my subconscious, things like Alice putting too much effort into a wedding that the bride would barely notice, fears about tripping in front of wedding guests, that I'd turn into a sobbing, hopelessly romantic mess at the alter. But none of those things really mattered when compared to the big picture of anxiety that loomed before me, in vivid Technicolor.

I felt that the wedding – the single strongest step that Edward and I could possibly make in solidifying our relationship beyond _boyfriend_ and _girlfriend_ – would push Jacob even further away than he felt now – which, with him not answering calls and Billy refusing to tell me where he was, already felt like a great, uncrossable chasm -- and that grim idea cut me like the sharpest of swords couldn't.

I loved Edward. I really did. He was the light at the end of an infinite, vague darkness last year, and while Jacob had held me together, I'd never felt whole until I'd felt Edward's marble-cold touch again. He had cleared my mind; before, it seemed things were hazy, like I didn't much care what I did or where I went, even counting before I had moved to Forks. Now, some moments and days stood out in picture-perfect black and white, others in vivid colors no rainbow could hope to match. Usually, the difference between the color and the grayscale was Edward – his touch his embrace, his lips. Everything dulled when compared to him, and yet everything since meeting him was brighter.

And then there was Jacob – Jacob, fighting for Edward's position as my light. When I thought about it, I had to admit that Jacob was my sun – his warmth, his friendship had held me together during those dark, shapeless months. But that was it; he was the _friend_, and the night was always more romantic, more appealing. Edward was my moon, and it was during those times that he disappeared from the sky that my life felt the darkest. I could live the days without a sun – but my nights without a moon were dull and forgettable.

And Edward was something I could never forget, nor did I want to.

And so my predicament was written like a romantic stage tragedy. _They fight; Paris falls._ There was never any doubt about who Paris was in this messed up piece of Shakespeare; it was as if he'd reached up from the grave and contorted all our lives in the most twisted of webs, smiling ruthlessly at his masterpiece.

Edward's alabaster finger had begun to tap an impatient tempo on my side where it rested. His other hand had fallen from my chin and was tracing butterfly shapes on the back of my hand. Restful and restless, all at once. I sighed and captured the cold, drumming hand in mine.

I raised his hand to my face and, pressing it to my lips, I whispered, "I wonder how Juliet felt when Paris fell."

Edward's brow furrowed and his hand felt rigid. "What is that supposed to mean? Juliet didn't love Paris."

I frowned into his palm, inhaling his intoxicating scent at the same time. "Who said anything about love?" I cringed silently, hoping he wouldn't feel the reaction on his hand. "I'm sure Juliet never wished anyone's death. . ."

Edward stopped just short of snorting, but the sound within his throat tipped me off. "She faked her own death, Bella . . . what's all this about?"

I laid a light kiss on his thumb and let his hand slip away from mine. _Dangerous territory_, I warned myself. I was walking into a trap that I couldn't see a way out of, and what worried me most was what Edward's reaction would be, despite having many precedents to compare it to.

I took a deep breath and plunged forward. "I haven't talked to Jacob in so long."

Edward, understanding now, tensed up beside me. "Jacob is Paris?"

I nodded, trying to catch his expression. "_They fight; Paris falls,_" I quoted, my voice quiet. Beside me, Edward took a long, unnecessary breath.

"And when did you start comparing the relationship between Jacob and yourself to Shakespeare?"

I frowned again and put my hand on his cheek. "You've always been Romeo."

"And yet you feel the need to wonder about Juliet's feelings for her fallen suitor."

He looked down at me then, but his eyes were empty. I cried out in frustration and my other hand went to his neck, pulling myself up so I was eye-level with him and staring into his tawny eyes. "You must stop this! You know I can't bear it – he's my best friend, Edward. He helped me," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper as I feared his reaction; any other time I'd brought up those months long ago, his eyes had shielded over in pain and I could feel his heart breaking. "I've told you; if not for him, you'd have come home to less than a human being. Much less."

He had closed his eyes, but he brought his hand up to where mine rested on his cheek, closing over it gently. "I know, Bella. I do. And I've told _him_ that, as well. But I don't think you understand the game he's playing here – every thought, every movement he's made has been part of his scheme to win your heart. And, although I owe him my life many times over, I won't let him win this one." He opened his eyes and traced my lips with his other hand. "I saw you first – and I loved you first."

I couldn't find within me the tenacity to remind him that Jacob and I were long-time family friends, having known each other (not well, but well enough) much longer than I had known Edward. His eyes sparkled in a grin and I leaned my head against his chest, wanting everything except Edward and I to disappear, become nothing more than the ghost of a memory of a dream one can't quite remember. He kissed my hair gently and he slowly began to sway from side to side, lulling me into calm and security. There was nothing false about this; this was the truest kind of trust, the rarest and rawest kind of love and devotion. I knew my heart remained true to Edward, as Juliet's remained to Romeo.

And Paris lay forgotten for those blessed moments, my thoughts enveloped and obsessed with the scent, feel, and warmth of chilled marble's embrace

-- -- --

**Author's Note.  
**A few notes before we continue:

- Some chapters are written from a different point of view than Bella's; in these cases the character speaking will be written atop the chapter in _ALL CAPS._

- I'll only update one chapter at a time; usually I update with everything I have written whenever I start the story and then I forget to update ever again. This will hopefully give me some incentive to keep writing on this story, which I've been working on since January.

Have fun reading! Please feel free to leave comments addressing parts of the story that you like or with any questions you may have.


	2. Ghost Wars

**JACOB BLACK**

My muscles were beginning to scream in protest of my incessant galloping. _Thud thud thud._ Paw after paw after paw. The pads of my feet were beginning to ache with a continuous rhythm.

And the blood in my ears was creating a hollow, thrumming _hum. _Like a seashell pressed against my ear. _Whoosh._ The sound of an ocean, in the middle of a desolate, snowy tundra.

But I didn't dare slow down; slowing down meant thinking of something beyond push, push, push; pressing my muscles to do more than they wanted, forcing my wolf-body to carry me farther than I'd ever dared to test it.

The only way I knew that I was further from Forks than I could have ever dreamed was that Sam, Quil, and Embry hadn't popped up in my thoughts recently. The last time I'd had contact with anything from La Push was at least seventy miles back, just as I was rounding a tiny town with a small, wooden sign that read, "You Are Now Leaving William's Lake."

I counted the lack of the pack's presence among my blessings. With Embry constantly telling me how stupid I was for mourning over the loss of something I never had, and Quil practically begging me to just come home and let things go back to the way they used to be, La Push seemed even more formidable than it ever had. And Sam's constant _pressure-without-pressuring_ tactics were beginning to take a worse toll on me than the idea of _his_ teeth sinking into _her_ flesh had.

I shivered inside my thick coat, then shook my head as I pushed on. Nothing was worse than that idea. _Nothing._

But Canada seemed promising enough that I didn't want to go back; nothing to remind me of her smile, or the way she used to rock herself into complacency whenever the thought of him leaving her in that rainy, cold forest crept up on her without warning. Knowing that she chose to be in _my_ company while he was gone made my great wolf snout smile for half a nanosecond, before I snarled and continued to power through the wilderness. A moment later I broke through the woods and my paws hit pavement; a short glance around as I slowed down told me I was on a highway, somewhere in British Columbia -- pinpointing exactly where would have been impossible.

But I could feel my body beginning to wear down on me; I hadn't eaten in at least two days, and the unrelenting conditions I was putting myself through were unlike anything I'd ever experienced, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could make my wolf form do what it was.

For the first time in three straight days, I slowed down and skidded to a halt, my paws sending a small puff of fresh snow into the air around me. I was panting; my feet begged for me to relax, but I kept standing, my body tensed and alert and I contemplated my next move.

I could go back to Washington. Go back to La Push and endure the questions the pack held, wait tentatively for her to show up on my doorstep while she continued to make plans for a wedding with her _coven_.

Or, I could keep running. I wondered how far I could make it in two day's time, and if I'd be able to survive that long. My stomach contorted in a painful, ravenous twist, as if to reiterate my lack of stamina.

I could tell I'd already defeated myself, that I would return to La Push. I was sure Billy was going to kill me when I did, that the pack would punish me relentlessly when I finally rejoined their ranks. And I was sure that every single ghost I'd tried to escape would be there to greet me with a smile, still refusing to leave me alone.

But that was the problem with ghosts; you can't escape them. Even if I ran ten thousand miles, my ghosts would follow me. Because no matter how hard I tried to focus on the pull of my muscles or the wind rushing through my fur, Bella Swan and Edward Cullen would always be at the tip of my tongue, waiting to torture me through my thoughts. It was almost as if Bella was beside me now, even as I thought about how very much I'd like to be rid of her incessant presence in my thoughts. I knew whom she belonged to, to whom she'd given her heart. Was I really so selfish to believe that some of her heart belonged to me, too? That I could and would win her back from him?

Was I really that _stupid_? How could I compete with Edward Cullen? That was my problem; I couldn't, and yet I told myself over and over that I could.

I cursed myself for allowing my thoughts to take over my willpower. _Run, _I urged myself. _Forget about it all and run like hell. That's what you want to do. Run and never turn back._

But I couldn't. I wanted to be there and protect her, even if the love I felt for her would never be returned in the same magnitude and if the protection I promised meant I'd do so from afar. I felt Forks and La Push and the pack and Billy and Bella pulling on me harder than ever, and a sudden wave of homesickness washed over me. One paw pushed in front of the other, in the same direction from which I'd come. My thoughts screamed at my feet, but they didn't listen, and soon I had taken ten steps towards home.

Home. The word felt warm and comforting. Twelve more steps, quicker this time.

And home promised Bella in one form or another. Her scent on a tee-shirt that lingered after the citrus detergent Billy used had washed every other scent away. The memory of how her smile lit up the small makeshift garage on a particularly cloudy, chilly day. The way she'd cried on my chest in my bedroom, while every bone in my body ached and my heart felt completely whole.

A half-paced gallop, and I was back in the woods.

The memory of her voice, quiet and fear-ridden, as she asked me to kiss her. . . And the way our last kiss was better than anything I could have imagined, better than heaven or speeding through weightlessness or soaring through emptiness could ever hope to promise to be.

I was running, full-tilt, and I had no intention of stopping. My next destination was Forks, a small house with yellow cabinets in a small kitchen.

Then the pale, lean ghost of Edward Cullen popped within my mind as I ran, and I snarled at it. I could almost hear his condescending voice: _She is mine._ I snarled louder, and pushed harder, so that every tree flying past was a green and white blur, trying to push the image of his smug face out of my mind's eye, to no avail.

_You can't escape a ghost._

_-- -- --_

**Disclaimer.  
**I own. . . a notepad. Please don't take it from me. It knows all my secrets.

**Author's Note.  
**Revieeeeeeeewwwww. . . purdy please.


	3. Running for Sanity

**BELLA SWAN**

"He can't come to the phone."

I sighed, trying to keep my anger in check. "Can't, or won't?"

I heard a trifling sigh from Billy, before he said, "I'm sorry, Bella," and the buzzing silence of the dead line filled the void of what he wouldn't say. I groaned in frustration and slammed the phone back into its cradle, the crack of plastic hitting plastic reverberating through the kitchen. I was glad Charlie had left already, or he'd surely have said something about wedding planning being horrible for the nerves and how it'd be best if we just canceled the whole thing. I groaned again as I slid back into my seat and picked up my spoon, preparing to plunge it into my Cheerios.

I never got the chance.

Across the table from where my bowl sat, waiting to catch my attention, was a shockingly beautiful seraph, his lips pressed into a small smile, his eyes beckoning me, ocher and sparkling. They were very hard to resist. In fact, it was impossible to contemplate resisting. I dodged the table and landed in his lap lightly, my arms wrapping around his neck in a tight embrace that I wasn't eager to break. His scent washed over me, almost too strong to handle after only a half hour apart. The chill of his skin emanated from beneath the soft gray fabric of his shirt, and I found I could happily die here and never regret another thing from my short life.

But, like his eyes, the strong pull of his iron hands on my wrists was impossible to break. He pushed me back, gently, so that I was looking into the deep gold pools of his eyes, and getting lost there.

_Breathe._ It finally came back to me when I glanced up at the clock above the sink.

"Who were you speaking to?" I glanced back at him to see his perfect lips turned down in a frown. "It didn't seem to be a happy conversation."

I rolled my eyes and stood up, grudgingly returning to my breakfast. "I'd rather not talk about it," I mumbled.

"Oh, no," he smiled. "No dodging the subject. I'd like to know who brings out such a temper in you. . . unless I already know?" He raised his eyebrows significantly, and I shook my head.

"Actually, it was his father this time. _He_ won't answer the phone." I angrily shoved a spoonful of cereal into my mouth. "Idiot," I mumbled around it. Edward chuckled.

"I won't argue the last sentiment," he said teasingly. "But what are you trying to talk to him about?"

I shrugged halfheartedly, sidestepping the truth, very stupidly. "I want the chance to explain myself, us." I waved a hand between us, and kept my eyes on my breakfast; perhaps then the truth wouldn't be so easily detected by Edward's prying eyes. I should have known better, but didn't feel like a disagreement today.

The truth was that I really only wanted to hear Jacob's voice. It'd been so long – close to a month now – and still I felt that things had been left in such a horrible position. He was bitter, even if he tried to hide that from me. The way Billy lied for him made that blaringly obvious. He was also in pain, which caused me to ache as well – and even if I had the world's best pain-reliever in Edward, nothing could heal Jacob's wound. It was always fresh, always throbbing.

Edward saw through my lies, but didn't acknowledge them for what they were. "So, would you like to know what we're doing today?"

I raised a brow. "I'd like to know what Alice has planned for us, if that's what you mean." He laughed.

The past week had been a rigorously-scheduled agenda which put Edward and I through our paces; dress fittings, tux fittings, taste-testing, decisions on cakes, colors, bridesmaids' gowns, and various other wedding-themed activities. I was exhausted, and had told Alice so the night before, while swimming in a sea of flower arrangements, the haze of their overpowering scents leaving me in a semi-daze. When I'd given her what was supposed to be a defiant glare, she shrugged.

"Every wedding has flowers, Bella."

"But not every wedding is _drowning_ in them."

She'd glared at me before calling for Edward's approval on an orchid-and-iris arrangement, which he agreed to simply to appease her; sure enough, she was beaming with joy as she had jotted down the specifications.

"She only wants some opinions. But, I warned her that if she didn't ease off, she'd be receiving a postcard from Las Vegas."

I smiled. "Thank you." I was still half-heartedly trying to convince Edward that it'd be much easier to elope now, even with most of the wedding plans set. He wasn't budging yet, and my hopes weren't high.

"You're welcome," he said, his own half-smile breaking like a miniature sunrise across his features. I looked away only when my brain screamed at me for oxygen.

The little O's in my bowl couldn't hold my attention for long, though. Across the table Edward had sighed several times, his breath blowing out across the table in powerful little gusts. Something was wrong. Something he was trying to keep from me, he didn't want to bother me with. _Well, that's stupid_, I couldn't help thinking. Hadn't he learned by now? Anything he tried to keep from me either ended up in disaster or I found out within the hour. It was an inevitability.

"What are you thinking?" he said quietly, and my lips pulled up at the corners. Our little tradition. "I can see it, you know. I may not be able to read your thoughts but I can certainly read your expressions."

"I'm wondering what _you're_ thinking," I said. Obviously. "You're a little more difficult to read."

"I should be," he said, smiling his crooked grin. "I've had a century to practice my poker face."

I glared at him as best I could, and his smile slipped away. It was replaced with a scowl.

"I guess it's not exactly secret," he muttered. "But I need to talk to Jacob, and he hasn't been picking up my calls, either. You were my last hope," he said, giving one of his shoulders a shrug-like twitch. "But if he's ignoring you, too. . ." His features contorted into a frown, and I dropped my spoon into my bowl.

"If he's ignoring me, he's not antagonizing you," I reminded him. I would actually take the option Jacob had forced me into; I hated nothing more than Edward irritated by my best friend, and if avoiding that meant Jacob avoiding _me,_ I could learn to live with it. Or would try very, very hard to accept it. For Edward's sake, in this case, also meant for my sake. And possibly for Jacob's.

His grimace hadn't slipped away yet, though, and I groaned.

"I think this whole wedding thing is sending everyone over the edge," I muttered, and Edward chuckled across the table from me.

It was true. Charlie had already taken to grumbling about the wedding at random intervals; when I was cooking, during a commercial break of whatever show he was watching, and especially whenever Edward appeared at the front door. Alice was frazzled even if she would never let on, and she was driving Rosalie – who was finally warming up to me, it seemed – and Esme up the walls of their pristine home; Jasper sat dutifully beside her most times, but sometimes Emmett's persuasion took hold of even him. And as I'd already made blaringly apparent, my nerves were fried. Edward was the only thing holding me together anymore, the only thing keeping me from going psycho and massacring the town, even without super-vamp abilities.

And then, of course, that was the icing on top of the lovely, teetering cake I'd concocted through gritted teeth and unwillingness. Edward was _still_, inexorably it seemed, being stubborn about my final command. He simply refused to talk about it anymore, and I was forbidden to discuss the transformation itself. Plans for afterward, it seemed, hadn't been placed under taboo (yet), and so Alice had made plans to visit the Denali clan to introduce me to the 'family,' as she'd worded it – I was still anxious, not sure if Irina would still be angry about the death of her mate, Laurent, by my group of werewolf friends.

And, of course, I'd challenged Emmett to arm-wrestling – he'd laughed and promised me a 'true challenge.' I'd then, subconsciously, noticed how absolutely _immense_ he was – his arms were intimidating, as least as big around as my head – and wished I hadn't done Edward this one favor. He'd reassured me, in a subdued voice, that Emmett would be no match for me.

Just then my stomach gurgled quietly, and Edward laughed. "You should finish you breakfast," he said, and I sighed. When I glanced at his face again, his eyes were sad, contemplative.

"I'm not even that hungry."

But I let my spoon sink into the milk and began to eat again. When I glanced up for his tawny eyes, I was met with a melancholy half-smile. I frowned, then took three bites of my cereal as I watched him carefully.

"Won't you be glad," he said slowly, his voice low and contemplative, "when you won't have to eat every few hours like a normal human?"

I looked away from the little circles floating in my milk and into his eyes, which were darker now – whether from thirst or emotion, I didn't know. I shrugged slowly, unsure of what his angle was. Usually this type of conversation was off-limits – ended before it even began by a solemn glare.

He was gazing out the kitchen window now. "When your skin won't give away every emotion you're feeling?"

I grinned. "That will be something to look forward to," I said, my eyes shining teasingly. He shot me a withering look.

"You won't blush when I kiss you. . . or glow hot under my touch."

I frowned and abandoned my breakfast. I crawled into his lap once again, tracing the smooth curve of his collarbone through the fabric of his shirt.

"You'll still dazzle me, Edward. You always will."

He wrapped his arms around me, resting his forehead against mine again; the only difference now was I could feel the intensity of his longing to be near me. It had been there before, just like it always was; now it was stronger than ever, pulling me ever closer.

"I'll still miss the blush."

I sighed and kissed his jaw before scooting away and cleaning out my bowl. When I finished, Edward was reading a newspaper – stalling – so I scrubbed the counters, organized three cabinets, and straightened up the cutlery drawer. When I couldn't find anything else to occupy my attention, I turned to him, leaned against the counter, and crossed my arms. He slowly folded the paper and before I could ask if we could leave, he was by my side, coaxing my arms to their sides.

"Just one more thing I must do," he said, and then reached for the phone over my shoulder.

I sighed. "Wasted effort," I muttered, and he smiled as he put the receiver to his ear. He was waiting while it rang, so I pursed my lips. "Why aren't you using your cell. . .?"

"I thought maybe your persistence would pay off, and he'd answer for once."

"But it's not my persistence. It's yours."

"What Jacob doesn't know won't kill him," he said quietly, and I snorted. I doubted Jacob would agree very much with that theory.

The phone must have stopped ringing on the other end, because Edward stood up a little straighter than before. "Hello, Billy," he said, his voice ringing slightly with resignation. "This is Edward Cullen," he started, but Billy must have interrupted.

"I'm well aware that he would rather speak to her than me, but I can't help that right now. And might I remind the both of you that he's ignoring her calls as well?" He sighed. "Billy, I need your help," he said, and I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, my eyes trained on Edward's face as I listened. "Jacob seems to be ignoring Bella as well as he's ignoring me. I understand it's his business how he treats her, but I need you to pass along a message. Tell him that if he keeps hurting her like this," he said, his eyes meeting mine as I blushed, "he'll have to answer to me."

Silence, and then he added, "No, I'm not threatening anyone. I'm looking out for Bella right now. If he still wishes to claim what he has about her. . . well, then what he's doing is wrong."

I watched as he frowned, and then raised an eyebrow. "No, I wasn't aware. . . My apologies, Billy. Do they know where...?" He listened, nodding. My brow furrowed, and a pushed away from the counter. Something in Edward's tone sounded wrong. Bad. Had something happened? How was Jacob involved?

"I'm very sorry about this, Billy. I hold myself personally responsible." He paused, then smiled, a sad, angry smile that was meant for whatever Billy had said. "No, I can't do that. I've personally discussed this with Jacob, he's aware of the situation."

Oh. _Oh_. I knew what Billy was asking, because I remembered the conversation Edward was implying. . . the one I thought I'd dreamed, in a small tent battered frustratingly by relentless, icy winds. The one when Jacob had tried to convince Edward to leave again. . . to give Jacob a second chance, give _me_ a second chance with Jacob.

Billy wanted Edward to give up, hand me over to Jacob. My temper flared, and then I felt the hot, fat tears slip down my cheek.

Edward had noticed them, too, and reached out with the cool, glass-like pad of his thumb to wipe them away as he continued to talk to Billy. "Again, I'm extremely sorry about all of this. Please, pass along my message whenever. . . Yes. Thank you."

And then he dropped his hand to his side, and met my gaze with cold, braced eyes. I didn't need to ask; his expression told me that something was wrong, and that was all I really needed to know. The rest was all a perverse desire to know the truth of the situation.

"Jacob's gone."

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.  
**I own a copy of the Entertainment Weekly issue with Rob and Kris on the front. . . And as of tomorrow I will own a copy of Breaking Dawn. But other than that. . . . nadda. But don't bring it up. It's a sore issue.

**Author's Note.  
**Okay, so I'm kinda disappointed. I really don't like asking for reviews, but I'm going to: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE? Review? I promise it doesn't take that long. Tell me what you think; what you hate, what you like. Even just to tell me that Edward's cool. That's alright. I agree. Just let me know. 2 reviews and 69 hits is kind of a big needle aimed right at my self-esteem, ya know? So I'm going to ask that I get some reviews before I update again. I really like this story (personally, I think it'll be the Emmett of my Twilight story collection (Emmett's just the coolest)) and wouldn't mind others telling me if they share my opinion or think I'm an abomination on the face of the earth. Honestly, I don't mind. ;)


	4. Detached Attachment

Gone. _Gone._ Edward had relayed the entire story to me in a flat, detached tone. It reminded me of the time the werewolves had met the vampires in the meadow to discuss strategy, and Sam had relayed his opinions through Edward's mind-reading capabilities.

After receiving the wedding invitation Edward had sent, Jacob had left La Push. Left the United States altogether, from what Edward was saying; the pack had told Billy something about Canada. It just didn't seem like something Jacob would do; he wasn't one to outrun his problems, because he was intelligent enough to realize he couldn't. Wasn't he?

Apparently the last person he'd spoken to, besides Billy, was Leah Clearwater. Edward said, in that same dead tone, that if I needed any more information, she was the one to ask. But my crippling inability to approach a decent conversation with Leah ever since the confrontation with Victoria and her cohorts left the option unconsidered.

I then realized with a pang of guilt that, this time, the lack of interest on Edward's part was because it hurt less to tell me the story that way. That by relaying what he knew without really paying attention to what he said or how I reacted, there was no chance that _I_ might hurt him.

That realization only made _me_ hurt more.

"Why?" I whispered, and Edward's shoulders slumped. I'd remained silent during his explanation, and now it seemed that his part was over, he was allowed some attachment. He moved towards me and I melted into his chest.

"I can't answer that, Bella. Only he can."

"But you must have some idea."

I felt him tense under my cheek, which was pressed against his chest. "Some."

I tilted my chin up, so I could look up at his expression. "Edward. . ."

He sighed. "Bella, please, it's nothing. It's just Jacob dealing with the… pain," he said hesitantly, gauging my reaction, "in his own way. Let him deal."

I frowned, but leaned against him again all the same. "I'll find out one way or another," I mumbled, and I felt his chest move. Laughter, or a sigh, or a silent groan. Perhaps resignation.

"I wrote him a letter." Yes, resignation.

"A letter about what, exactly?"

"It's nothing, Bella. I thanked him for all the countless things I owe him for. I know that a simple 'thank you' will never begin to cover the debt, but I just thought. . ." He sighed, his breath fanning over my face in a sweet-scented breeze. "I don't know what I thought, honestly. Perhaps it was the stupidest move I've made, inviting him and attempting to sweep it all under the rug on a piece of parchment."

I didn't reply. I only felt the soft rhythmic movements of Edward's unnecessary breathing and listened to my own heartbeats as the reverberated within my chest.

It seemed anymore that my heartbeats were limited, and I indulged in the sound and feel of them while I still had it. Edward's conditions were being met, which made him happy; there was a very obvious, detectable smile in his eyes whenever we were immersed in wedding details, one that made me smile in return despite my irritation. My conditions _would_ be met, and I had Edward's word. It was the one last human thing I clung to with increasing desperation, and sometimes my nightmares centered on the possibility that Edward would find somehow to postpone the inevitable by holding out on my prerequisite – and, in effect, by holding out on me.

But my heartbeats seemed to tick off the moments I had left to hold ownership over them, so I relished in the feel of my heart hammering away beneath my ribcage, particularly the wild jumps it did whenever those liquid-gold eyes seized mine in an inescapable adoring gaze. I knew I'd still feel that warmth, that feeling of being loved – the one that set the edges of the objects around me a glow, as if it all were reflecting the sun or were encrusted with diamonds – when I was no longer human, but it gave me something tangible to link to that feeling. Something real. As if the end of my heartbeats would be the very moment I woke up and found myself in Phoenix, never having left.

Even if that were the case, it would have been the best dream I'd ever had. The best dream anyone had ever had, hands down. Something comparable only to visiting heaven and then returning to Earth to cling onto every detail with precise clarity. There was no doubt that the heart-shatteringly beautiful boy in the dream would be forever emblazoned onto my retinas. Perhaps I would even suffer from hallucinations; be committed on account of the fact that I saw a glittering seventeen-slash-one hundred and seven year old at every sunlit corner.

Edward's lips brushed across my forehead, and I jumped. He smiled. I hadn't realized I'd lost such track of my surroundings, that I had been so immersed in the imagination of me speaking to a specter-version of Edward from inside a padded cell.

"Let's go meet Alice," he said, and it sounded like a question. I nodded and he wrapped a long arm around my waist, towing me gently towards the door.

The ride to the mansion-like white house, sunken deep into the lush fern-filled forest, was relatively quiet. The CD Edward had made for me last year played quietly in the background, while he hummed along with bits and pieces; I knew the music well enough now – I listened to it almost daily – that my fingers tapped along to the rhythm on the arm rest of their own accord, as if I were playing the melodies on a miniature piano in time with the music.

Once we turned down the secluded lane, though, Edward turned to me, eyes ablaze for the first time since he'd tonelessly told me about Jacob's departure.

"Bella," he started, and my fingers froze on the armrest. "Please just go along with what Alice has planned," he said, and I detected a hint of pleading in his tone. "I understand if you're a little less than eager – or rather, more so than usual – but I'm asking that you try to be a little less. . . sullen." He grinned, and I groaned.

"You know, so why won't you tell me?" I hated it when he did this. If he thought not being able to read _my _mind was maddening, he had no idea how his secret-keeping effected me.

"Alice is excited, and she'd rather it remained a surprise. She was pleading with me the whole way up the drive not to mention anything."

"Well, you mentioned it partially; might as well mention it fully."

He laughed. "Come on, Bella."

He was then at my door and helping me out into the ferny green-ness. I glared at the unimposing, innocent house as if _it_ had personally offended me, and not the pixie-like vampire inside. I couldn't keep my mind from imagining the worst; ice sculptures, rose petals, glitter, taffeta, perhaps a flower-wreathed archway. . . The whole way up the short pathway onto the front porch, Edward was grinning beside me, shaking his head at whatever his family was thinking.

The Edward walking beside me now was such a total three-sixty to the Edward that had been in my kitchen only a quarter of an hour ago that I barely noticed what was different within the house until Edward gently nudged me in the arm. When I looked up, I gasped.

I was so momentarily caught off-guard by their beauty that I even forgot my anxiety over the Jacob issue.

Surely it was illegal that six individuals be so inhumanely gorgeous. The entire family was assembled in the front room, each looking so. . . casually elegant, that it almost hurt to look at them. The men were all dressed in crisp black and white, their collars pressed neatly into perfectly straight lines, their bowties impeccable. The clean lines and darkness of the material made their pale, sharp features stand out even more. I had seen them all in tuxedos before – save for Carlisle – but had never paid attention, I was so distraught over being tricked and forced into attending prom by Alice and Edward. But despite their formal dress, each one looked completely comfortable, not at all awkward: Jasper had one hand tucked into the front pocket of his slacks, looking more like a brooding movie star than he ever had; Emmett's goofy smile made him look aloof when paired with the suave way he leaned against the banister of the stairwell, his arms crossed over his chest. Carlisle was as handsome and peaceful as ever.

But even the men, who all looked refined and handsome, dulled in comparison to the women. I could feel that my mouth was agape, and closed it with a snap.

Each wore a long, floor-length silk gown the color of a rain-darkened sky – gray with a hint of blue. It was a very pretty color, enhanced even more by the alabaster shoulders it bared. My dress was very traditional – all lace and beads and white silk – but their gowns were a mix between tradition and contemporary design. The bodices were entwined with antique lace and beads – sparkly, tiny little things that must have been painstakingly sewn on by hand – in swirling patterns, so that the designs, coupled with the storm-cloud color, looked like spiraling eddies of rain. The skirt flowed down towards the floor with liquid-like grace, flaring out slightly at the very bottom. The dress somehow looked different on all of them. Esme looked elegant and beautiful and ladylike with her simple pearl necklace, three adjectives I could never achieve myself no matter my wardrobe. Alice wore her dress with more flamboyance than the others; with it she had coupled an expensive, large diamond necklace and had laced her arm with a bracelet so sparkling it must have been more than ten carats. And Rosalie was so devastatingly beautiful even without the jewels that it truly did hurt to look at her, so I turned back to Alice, who was grinning.

"Surprise," she said excitedly, almost bouncing where she stood next to Jasper. "We finally got them all back from the tailor's!"

I smiled, the motion feeling shockingly stiff. I tried to relax, and slipped my hand into Edward's to speed up the process. "You all look perfect," I said, my voice rather quiet. Edward nodded beside me, and then laughed. Alice shot a look at Emmett, who looked down sheepishly.

"Yes, you will wear it," she said crisply, the words fast and heated. I only realized then that Emmett had an aversion to the tux he wore rather well. "And uncross your arms – you'll wrinkle the lapel." Emmett obeyed, his chest heaving as he sighed. "And you will _not_ do that, Emmett, or so help me. . ."

Edward chuckled again, and I furrowed a brow, confused. Edward leaned down, so his lips were even with my ear, and I felt his breath fan across my cheek. I shivered unwillingly.

"He was thinking about burning the tux," he murmured, and I smiled – a true smile, a coconspirator-like smile – at Emmett, who returned it whole-heartedly. Alice had, I assumed, seen Emmett setting the pile of black and white material ablaze. I fought the urge to laugh at the self-created image myself, and found myself at the receiving end of one of Alice's knowing glares.

"It's one night," Alice added, her voice reproving. "It won't kill any of you."

Rosalie's fingers trailed the intricate beading. "I like them, if it's any consolation," she murmured.

"But you're a _girl_, you're supposed to like dressing up," Emmett boomed, and grinned when Rosalie's hand reached out and struck him on the arm in a lightning-fast movement that I barely saw. I only realized what she'd done when the sound echoed back at me – a loud crack, like metal hitting concrete – and Esme gave them both a reproachful glance.

Despite my distraction with Emmett and Rosalie, I hadn't missed the look Carlisle leveled Edward, or the abrupt nod Edward offered in return. I frowned, and he gave my hand a gentle squeeze, though his expression was a grimace. He _would_ explain later, if I had to force it out of him. How I'd go about that, though, I wasn't sure. . .

Carlisle cleared his throat and gestured down at his tux. "Well, Alice, now that we've modeled them, we can change out of them, no?"

Alice frowned, but nodded nonetheless. "Yes, but be careful to put them back in the bags! And make sure they won't wrinkle," she added, glaring at Emmett, who had already shrugged out of his jacket and begun to remove his bowtie.

While his family moved out of the room, murmuring about their clothing, Edward towed me gently towards the stairwell. I followed him upstairs silently.

When we reached his bedroom, he closed the door quietly. He didn't turn back around; his hand remained on the doorknob, his head low, his other hand supporting his weight against the doorframe. He looked. . . dejected. Utterly defeated. It scared me, compared to his previous state of laughter. It hadn't been more than a few moments ago that he had whispered warmly in my ear.

It scared me.

"Is it that bad?" I whispered. I was oblivious to his thoughts with his face turned away from me; perhaps that was his intention. "What is _it_?" I added as an afterthought. It didn't much concern me what plagued us now; just what plagued _him._

I saw his shoulder heave with an unnecessary breath.

"The pack is getting restless," he said. "They're drawing up battle plans."

I froze; the air around us was still, full of tension and things left unsaid, things that didn't need to be said. Oh. They anticipated the treaty to be broken.

Were they so wrong in their presumption? Part of me said no; another part of me – a smaller part, but a part nonetheless – was terrified that they were right.

I realized I hadn't been breathing when Edward suddenly turned and crushed all my leftover air out of me in a tight hug.

"Hush, Bella, love," he said, his voice placating. I breathed in his scent; my brain screamed for the oxygen, the rest of my body screamed for him alone. "Everything will work out."

I pushed away from him gently. "I need to speak to Jacob. More so now than before."

"That's rather difficult when he's three hundred miles away."

"He has to come home sometime." Billy needed him. . . the pack needed him.

I needed him.

How could he do this to _me_? If he didn't care for Billy or the pack – his brothers, essentially – then what was I?

I knew it was silly and childish of me. So self-absorbed. I was not the sole concern of Jacob Black. He had a slew of issues that outranked me; he had a pack of werewolves to govern, responsibilities that dwarfed one human girl on the verge of switching species. But I couldn't help the nagging feeling that both Edward and I were the reason behind his disappearance. As if the looming date of our marriage had pushed him over the edge.

I imagined him lost in the snowy tundra, unable to phase out of his wolf form out of anger. I could feel the wracking sobs building up in my chest, and pushed them back, locked them away behind an impenetrable door. I had promised that Edward would never see another tear shed by me for Jacob. I would not go back on my word.

Edward's cold hands remained on my arms, and he guided me to the edge of the expansive gold-trimmed bed. My knees automatically bent and I sat down beside him. I must have been staring at the wall – I couldn't remember actually seeing it – because Edward's fingers coaxed my face towards him.

"He'll come back," he said. His voice was bordering on detached again, and I sighed. This was hurting him.

"I know," I murmured, trying to lull myself into complacency by that thought. Jacob would return. Billy needed him. He was the pack beta (I internally grinned at our made-up term for Jacob's rank within the society of wolves). People _relied _on him, much more than I'd ever realized.

But, god, how could he be so _stupid?_ How could he just run?

Jacob would come home. But which was more disturbing; that I knew I'd run him out in the first place, or that I thought of 'home' as being by my side? I shivered, and Edward's embrace relaxed. I groaned.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, nuzzling up to him again. "I'm sorry that I'm so upset. I'll try to forget about it."

He didn't reply, so I wasn't sure if he was calmed by the fact that I'd try to let it go or worried that I hadn't already.

We sat like that until Alice's bell-like tone rang up at us. She was shouting for my benefit, and I noticed Edward's cringe as her yell reached us. "Bloody insufferable psychic," I heard him mutter, so low I almost didn't hear him. It made me laugh, which made him smile.

When we reached the bottom of the staircase, where she stood with her hands on her hips, her lips pursed, she glared quite effectively at me. I bristled, and she said, "You came here for a reason, remember? Cuddle with Edward on your own time."

She turned around and began to lead us towards the kitchen. I was seriously contemplating sticking my tongue out at her back, but she intersected me by saying, "Don't you dare, Bella." Edward laughed beside me and pulled me into his side. I did it anyways. I probably looked like a five-year-old.

Alice turned her head to the side and returned a raspberry of her own, which sent me into a tizzy of smothered giggles. Edward shook his head at our behavior before perching on one of the silver barstools that sat huddled around the island in the middle of the kitchen's linoleum. I accepted the one beside him and Alice went to stand on the opposite side of the counter, facing us.

She was oddly intimidating. I stopped giggling immediately and looked up at her with a dimmed sense of reverence.

"While you two have been off snuggling or whatever it is you do," she said, raising an eyebrow at us, "I've been trying to figure out food for the non-vampire portion of the wedding guests. But seeing as I haven't eaten in I don't care to count how long, and I can't really remember food anyways, I need help." She gave me a truly pitiful look then. "Bella, please. This one last favor."

I snorted. One last favor had turned into twenty-six favors in the matter of three days last time she'd used that plea. But her big golden eyes pouting at me chagrinned me. "Fine," I snapped, with less venom than I would have liked. "But only because I don't think Renee would approve of mountain lion."

Alice clapped her hands together and snapped her fingers twice. A whole herd of people bearing silver platters of finger foods ushered into the kitchen then. Edward chuckled at something – at first I thought it was because of the ridiculous amount of food she'd summoned out of no where – but then I realized he was probably reading the caterer's thoughts. Whatever one of them – or all of them, I didn't know – was thinking entertained him. He kept trying to smother his laughter as all seven caterers found a bit of counter space to relinquish their tray, before filing into the back yard through the glass French doors.

Each silver tray was laden with fancy food the likes of which belonged in expensive French restaurants and five-star hotel dining halls. Edward sniffed appreciatively before sighing in resignation. I shot him a dour look before Alice began shoving appetizers and crab cakes down my throat.

Three hours later, when I had been sufficiently filled with tasty, frilly finger foods until I felt my stomach would burst, Edward lugged me towards the Volvo. My stomach hurt, my head ached, but I couldn't help but feel relief as we left Alice in the kitchen by herself, surrounded by half-eaten platters of food and notes on which ones I liked and which ones I hated.

Surprisingly, though, the food hadn't captured my attention away from Jacob. In fact, it had reminded me of the time Jacob and his enormous friends had gathered around a bonfire, scarfing down hot dogs and root beer.

"_Are you going to eat that hot dog?"_ Paul had asked.

"_I guess. I'm so full I'm about to puke, but I _think _I can force it down. I won't enjoy it at all, though,"_ had been Jacob's teasing reply.

I sighed as Edward opened the passenger side door for me.

"Something wrong?" he asked, his voice less concerned than earlier. Apparently he though I had forgotten. That only made me feel worse.

"No," I lied. It was a losing battle, like trying to keep the sun from rising by keeping your eyes closed. I heard him sigh before he shut the door and was in the driver's seat, quicker than lightning.

"I'll play along for tonight," he said, sparing me a smug glance, like he thought himself generous for not pestering me about my issues. "But tomorrow. . ."

"Got it. Tomorrow you flip back into Dr. Phil mode."

He grinned before gunning his way down the long driveway; my eyes were trained on the blurred green mass that flew by the window at a surprising but not entirely unfamiliar speed.

I didn't bother to ask where we were going until we stopped just off the trailhead that led to our meadow, where the pavement of the highway ended. It didn't scare me anymore, driving to the road's end. I knew so many much better things lie ahead that the symbolism of the end had always been lost on me.

Until tonight.

I tried to keep my breathing calm as I realized that the car's tires coming to a halt there off the main road was an uncanny representation of my heart's limited beats. There was only so much pavement, only so many contractions left to the organ in my chest. I thought that, maybe, by having such a clinical and detached view of my heart's end would make it stop pounding with a resilient, panicked thud. But it only sped it up. Edward shot me a knowing look before we both got out of the car and I climbed aboard my favorite transportation device.

My arms wrapped around his neck and my legs tightened around his waist just a second before he darted off, the forest a colorful blob surrounding us, closing in on top of us.

When we reached the meadow I slid off his back and sat on the ground, tucking my knees up to my chin. Edward slinked his way to the ground in front of me.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his voice soft and sweet. Reassuring. I felt my lungs' workload decrease by a minimal amount.

But I couldn't figure out which _it_ he meant. Did he mean the wedding? Surely he could see the kind of pressure I was under because of it. My eyes were a little more tired, my skin a little sallower. Not much, just fractionally.

Did he mean the looming prospect of sinking his teeth into my warm, soft flesh? This flesh, which I wanted so desperately to become hard and cold as ice? Could _it_ be the fact that I now was looking forward to pain far worse than I'd known – pain like fire, burning, spreading, eating its way through my veins like poison?

Did he mean the apprehension I was beginning to feel at that prospect? But no, he surely couldn't know that. . . I was still safe inside my mind, safe from his prying 'hearing.' I may not have been the world's best liar, but I was good enough at controlling my emotions to hide that anxiety. Wasn't I?

Or maybe, maybe. . . did he mean Jacob? But I couldn't hurt him like that. It was Edward, my Edward, the one who supported my decisions through pleasure and pain. I shook my head.

"Not tonight." Tonight I would relish what I did have. I unfolded my legs and crawled across to where Edward was, so that I could press my cheek against his chest, directly above the place where his non-beating heart rested. The silence in the hollow of his chest was perversely calming.

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.  
**Alice lives in my closet. She choses my clothes for mye every morning. And Emmett is my personal hug-a-bear.

I so wish. But nope, unfortunately. I'm working on developing Jedi mind tricks, so I can coax Stephenie Meyer into selling me the rights. . .

**Author's Note.  
**Okay, so I realize that a longer chapter (almost twice as long as the others, woo) doesn't neccessarily make up for the lack of plot in this one. I think there's six or seven full lines of plot-related stuff there. But this was my chance to be all girly and describe the bridesmaids' dresses. I would share a picture, except I made these things up. At least, I think I did. . .

And, I know, killa moodswings. But that's how I write sometimes. They're happy, they're emo, or they're bi-polar.

And before I go, a big **THANK YOU!** to my reviewers. There were only two since last update, but they both made my day. Glad you don't think I'm an abomination and all that. Yeah, that needle that was aimed at my self-esteem? It's a bit farther away now. I'm no longer in immediate danger of deflation thanks to you. That's akin to earning those gold star stickers in school, which obviously means you're the awesomest. So thank ya. :)


	5. Morbid Necessity

**JACOB BLACK**

Charlie Swan's little house on the edge of the dense forest was a mix between a welcoming sight and a foreboding symbol. Welcome, because it meant I was home again. Foreboding, because I knew it wouldn't be her home for much longer.

So was I here for warm welcome-home hugs or goodbyes? Was it a morbid curiosity that pulled me here, or a true need to see her again, make sure she wasn't already dead or worse? But the pack would have said something, right?

But I'd lost contact with them – rather, avoided it altogether – as soon as I'd reached the three-hundred mile mark. Was that my final gesture? To run away from her right before he bit her? Was I ever going to see Bella again, or would I see a faintly recognizable, beautiful, pale, ice-cold, blood-sucking vamp in her place? A long chill ran down the length of my body that had nothing to do with the crisp, refreshing air.

Her truck was in the driveway. It looked forlorn and pitiful when compared to the shiny black monstrosity parked beside it. It was all hard lines and polished paint and chrome. Every man's weakness: a brand-new, fine-tuned machine. A Mercedes Guardian. They weren't even available in _Europe_ yet.

And yet, one sat in Bella Swan's driveway. I bet she'd never driven it once. I bet she loathed the thing.

I tried not to admire it as I crouched in the shadow of the forest. If anything, Cullen had taste. And an unfathomable, disgustingly large amount of dough.

I sniffed at the air, and grimaced when the sickly sweet smell hit my nostrils. It was left over from the countless times he'd been in that house, not exactly fresh; if I'd had to pinpoint a time, I would have guessed at earlier this morning. I glanced up at the sky. It was now almost five in the evening, at least.

She wasn't there. But as I watched the motionless house, Charlie's cruiser pulled around the corner and parked alongside the curb. I waited for him to get inside and settle in before I made my approach.

I leaned against the thick, mossy trunk of a tree and crossed my arms with a sigh. Perhaps coming here first was a bad idea. I felt a pang of guilt when I thought of Billy and how worried he must be.

I'd phased out of wolf form before I crossed the three hundred mile mark and hitch-hiked most of the way, despite the Bella voice in the back of my mind telling me how stupid it was, to avoid the pack. When I reached the extreme outer limits of La Push, I decided to run; I bypassed the town by way of the forest's shadows and jogged the fifteen miles to Forks. It wasn't a bad run; it was a nice distance, felt good to stretch my human legs as opposed to my wolf ones. It was a different kind of running. I almost preferred it.

But it was only a matter of time before the pack found out I was back. It was only a matter of time before I had to go back to La Push. I pushed away from the tree and trudged across the wet, uneven grass. It had stopped raining – momentarily – about ten minutes ago, but remnants of the drops still clung to my hair, soaked the shoulders of my T-shirt, the same one I'd been wearing when I left La Push in the first place. It seemed to have a permanent crease in it where the leather cord had bound it to my back left leg.

After I reached the front door and knocked three times, I heard Charlie shout, "Coming!" from within, before it flung open a few minutes later. He seemed to be surprised to see me, because it took a few moments before he smiled and said, "Jacob!" before stepping aside and allowing me inside.

"Hey, Charlie," I said, with my best attempt at a smile. I didn't venture too far into the house, as my shoes were wet and streaked with mud.

"How are you, Jake?" Charlie asked, before closing the door behind me. My eyes swept the kitchen, as if looking for the person I knew wasn't here. "Haven't heard from you in a while. At least a week."

I turned around and shrugged. "Alright. I've been laying low for a while. You know," I said, moving my left arm – the one that was supposed to be broken – and grinning. "The Doc said I should keep it at least in a sling," I fibbed. Charlie nodded.

"You should listen to Dr. Cullen," he said sternly, and my grin turned sheepish. "And I hope you learned your lesson about motorcycles."

I nodded. "Yes, sir. Billy's been hounding me about them, as well." I added the last lie with a roll of my eyes, which Charlie chuckled at.

"Well, Jake, Bella's not home, but if you wait around, it shouldn't take long," Charlie said, motioning towards the living room. "She's been spending all her time with the Cullens, Alice won't let up with the. . . wedding. . . plans. . ."

I must have grimaced, or made some other betraying motion, because he looked up at me with an apologetic nod of his head. "Right. Well," he said, motioning towards the welcoming-looking couch and recliner, "I bet there's a game on."

I nodded and kicked off my shoes before following him, and assuming a stretched-out position on the couch, watched the game with Charlie, who occasionally talked to the athletes as if he were their master puppeteer, telling them what to do.

"Come on, come on, catch the ball. . . argh. . . no… yes! Now throw – OUT!" he cheered, while I grinned at the screen beside him.

'It shouldn't take long' had turned into 'only a few more minutes, I'll bet,' before two hours had passed and there was still no sign of Bella. I was one more inning away from resignation; as good as it felt to be back into a somewhat normal routine, back where I knew she was and where I should be, I couldn't help but realize that my ghosts had gotten the better of me. I had let them beat me down; even my effort to try and outrun them had turned into a sick, twisted sort of game for them, in which they'd only allowed my brief victory to watch my torment when I realized the truth. I ran my hand through my hair, which was almost to my shoulders. I watched the athletes on the screen, trying to make myself get up and leave. _But, _a small hopeful voice said, _what if she _is_ back in a couple of minutes? _

I had lasted fifteen more minutes of arguing with myself before I finally stood up and stretched.

"I'm sorry, Jake," Charlie said, mimicking me and glancing at the clock hanging above the doorway. "I really thought she'd have been home by now."

"It's alright, Charlie. Billy must be wondering where I am, or else I'd hang around a bit longer." _Yeah, Billy must be really worried. . . _

I suddenly felt pretty stupid for leaving without any notice.

Charlie was looking at me thoughtfully. "You really need to talk to her, don't you?"

I glanced up from the front door, which I had been tediously studying. "Huh?"

Charlie blinked, then shook his head. "Oh, nothing, Jake, nothing. . . it's just. . ." He sighed, before rubbing at his chin with his hand. "Bella's kind of under the impression that you've been ignoring her."

I sighed, my shoulders slumping forward. "I guess you could say that," I muttered. Charlie frowned.

"You know, I don't exactly approve of the, er. . . situation either, but Bella really seems to value your support. You did a hell of a lot more for her in the past year than any one I can think of, Jacob."

My hands slipped into my pockets. "I feel the same way, Charlie, but—"

The front door opened and banged shut, and I shut up. I heard a bag hit the floor and some pans clanking around in the kitchen.

"Sorry, Dad, but Alice wouldn't let me leave. I had to beg for my freedom," I heard Bella joke, and Charlie cocked an eyebrow at me. I could feel a prickle on the back of my neck, and a fleetingly sweet odor attacked my senses before it was overwhelmed with Bella's unique scent.

"Uh, Bells," Charlie said, loud enough that Bella would hear him over the running sink faucet. "Honey. . . you have company."

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.  
**I own it all. Everything. I also invented the internet. o.O

**Author's Note.  
**So, I feel like I need to offer a reassurance, mostly for my own sake; while some (small) details of this story (such as, ahem, Mercedes Guardians) will be altered because I've read _Breaking Dawn_, I will not alter the major plot of my story, because I feel that some things in the novel weren't addressed well enough. I'm not dissing Stephenie -- I still adore her and her novels, but the book kind of let me down, just a little bit. I still loved it, just not as much as the first three.

Also, I love reviews and the people that send them (also known as. . . reviewers. Duh-dun.). Which means. . . I'm not feeling much love for the people reading this story. Don't take any offense. It's just, if you don't drop a comment here and there and tell me what you think, I can't know that you're reading -- I just see a hit registered on my stats page. You're just a faceless blob floating around cyberspace. My reviewers have faces -- granted, imaginary faces, faces that I made up for them, but faces all the same. Do you want a face? I would. Nudge, nudge. Nudgitty nudger nudge. (By the way, "my little nudger" is now my all-time favorite nickname for a baby.)

So thanks to those face-ful people out there who left me a kind comment. ILU, fer sirius.

Be.kind.rewind.k.bai.


	6. Inexorable Instinct

Previously in **Beautifully Broken:** _"Uh, Bells," Charlie said, loud enough that Bella would hear him over the running sink faucet. "Honey. . . you have company."_

-- -- --

**BELLA SWAN**

Over the past couple of hours with Edward and his family, I had tried my hardest to forget my issues with Jacob. I had been successful a few times; there were moments when I forgot about Jacob, forgot about the wedding, forgot who I was. It was when Edward pulled away, and took his lips with him, that I remembered again.

And for some reason, the grimace that twisted Edward's features as he pulled into the driveway had been lost on me. I hadn't questioned it, because he had done the same for me already countless times. I saw it as a way of paying him back for ignoring his curiosity. Now I knew, and now I wish I'd asked him; he would have told me, and I would have been prepared for this.

The extremely tall, dark-skinned person that stepped through the doorway and into the kitchen then didn't register for a moment, because I didn't look at his face. It had been a week and a half since I'd seen him; the time seemed to grow and stretch with the knowledge that he had run away, hadn't been in the next town over. It seemed like months, possibly years, and that imaginary time made his stature almost unrecognizable.

But when my eyes brushed over his unmistakable features, my jaw dropped open. Maybe Edward had been wrong. Maybe he hadn't left. Maybe he'd been in La Push the whole time, for that was the only plausible way that he could possibly be standing in my kitchen right now.

His features split in a small, sad smile as he said, "Hi, Bella."

I gaped at him for a few more seconds before I heard my father clear his throat in the living room, followed closely by the groan of the recliner as he sat down. Giving us privacy. I set the sauce pan I had in my hand on the stove, and crossed the small kitchen in a matter of ten seconds.

When I was standing right in front of him, his smile widened and he held his arms out slightly, as if waiting for me to hug him.

I instead balled my right hand into a fist and began to pound every inch of his chest I could reach.

"Whoa, hey," he laughed, before catching each of my shoulders in his large, too-warm hands and restraining me. "Easy, Bells. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

I glared up at him and his easy smile. "Shut up, Jake. Just, shut up." I wrenched myself out of his grasp and crossed my arms across my chest. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"Does that mean you're granting me permission to speak?" He raised his eyebrows at me.

"Idiot," I huffed, before I reached out and hit him again. It probably didn't hurt him at all. He kept smiling. I heard Charlie snicker in the other room. Giving us privacy, my foot. Try hiding so he could eavesdrop.

"Aw, Bells, I'm sorry," he said sheepishly. I turned my back on him and returned to the oven, where I picked up the abandoned sauce pan and transferred it to the sink with more force than necessary; it clanged loudly upon contact with the metal basin. I flipped on the faucet before he began to speak again, loud enough that he could be heard over it.

"I really shouldn't have run away like that, I know. . . Possibly the stupidest thing I've ever done, right? But I was so overwhelmed with the stupid injuries and finding out about you and him the way I had. . . and then, there was Leah _effing _Clearwater, telling me to get over you for _her_ sake and that I shouldn't mourn what I never had, and I just. . . lost it. I'm sorry. It was easier to deal with things when they were four hundred miles away."

I turned off the faucet. "Yeah? And how did your dealing work out for you? You came back; does that mean you're over it?"

He grimaced, and I rolled my eyes before returning the pot to its burner. "Not necessarily."

"So, what? You're back to try and dissuade me from my choice again?" I frowned at the pot of water as I waited for it to boil. It was much easier remaining angry at Jacob if I didn't have to see his expressions.

"No, Bella. Don't you remember?" He came to stand beside me and ducked his head to read my expression easier. "King Solomon? I'm not doing that to you anymore."

I continued to stare at the pot of water. What was I planning to make for dinner again? I couldn't remember. Jacob sighed.

"Do you think we could. . . go for a walk?"

My head snapped up to meet his gaze so quickly that I could feel the blazing, aching heat in my neck of a strained muscle. My eyes bored into his. The last time we'd gone for a walk, I'd had to defend myself against his advances, and had broken a knuckle. His eyes pleaded with me, though, so I sighed and peered around his hulking form towards the kitchen.

"Dad, do you think you could order a pizza? Jake and I need to talk."

He sounded smug when he answered, as if he expected Jacob to sweep me off my feet in one evening, thus erasing my engagement to Edward. "Sure, Bells. Have a good time."

I rolled my eyes before following Jacob out the front door. They sky was a yellow-pink-gray over the numerous coniferous trees and scattered rooftops that made up the horizon. It was as if it couldn't make up its mind as to whether it wanted to open up and spout icy rain down on us, or implode into a beautiful pastel sunset. I glared up at it in warning; I liked it the way it was. No rain, no sun.

Strange, how much I'd grown to anticipate sunlight as a bad thing.

Jake's already rain-spattered back led me towards the rim of trees off to the side of the house; as I trudged through the glisteningly damp, unkempt grass (the bottom of my jeans soaking through in the process) towards the eerily shadowy forest, a sharp, painful chill rain through my heart. This felt inexcusably like last September. And that froze me in fear.

My knees locked in place, unmovable, as I stared at Jake's back. Surely he wouldn't…

Surely he knew how much that would hurt me. Surely he would know how much the situation would slowly torture me from the inside out, the memories couple with the fresh pain eating their way through my racing heart. Surely, he knew.

He turned, and frowned at me. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his face. How odd; he had already left. He'd been gone. Why did he return, then, if he was only going to say goodbye again? Was he trying to kill the bride before the wedding? Had that been his intention all along? What would happen when Alice found a shell of a girl on the wedding day?

"Bella?" he asked, his voice ringing with misplaced curiosity. He knew. He knew what this was doing to me. How could he stand there as if it was no big deal, like ripping off a band-aid. . .?

Then a shudder of realization hit him, and he had scooped me into a lung-crushing hug. "Oh, Bells," he mumbled into my hair. "No, oh, no Bella. I wouldn't do that."

I was still frozen; whether it was relief or fear still wasn't clear. He pulled away and held me at arm's length, his arms holding my shoulders firmly. "You hear me, Bells? I'm not doing that to you, okay? Not me."

I blinked then. He offered a shaky, reassuring smile, and I nodded, before pulling away from him. The way he had said _"Not me"_ made it implicitly clear that he thought himself the better person, because he wasn't leading me to my emotional end in a rainy forest. He had said _not me_, because that was reserved for Edward. Edward was the one who broke my heart that way, not Jacob. I bit my tongue against the diatribe I bitterly wanted to hurl his way.

Instead, I barked, "Well? What do you want to talk about?"

He chuckled at me before leading me to the very entrance of the trees and propping himself against one of the larger ones. I crossed my arms over my chest – more as a warning against that aching-hole feeling that threatened to overwhelm with the memories that the wet, moldy wood brought back. It was stupid of me; Edward and I were getting married in less than a month. How ridiculous to fret and linger over the past. I imagined a big, fluffy eraser wiping away the pain, clearing the slate. I took a deep breath and found that, rather than being suffocatingly reminiscent, the rain-washed forest smell was refreshing.

"Nothing in particular," he shrugged. I gaped at him. "What? I wanted to talk to you. Just _talk._"

I sighed, and looked off towards the driveway. Oh, how I wished a silver little car would pull into it right about now. . .

"I know you hate it," he mumbled.

I looked up; he was looking at the car – _my_ car, I thought with a small pang of disgust – with a look of loathing and jealousy. Something about guys and well-tuned machines. I rolled my eyes.

"It's not really that I hate it, more that I hate the _idea_ of it," I finally said. He cocked an eyebrow at me.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

I took a deep breath and leaned against the nearest tree. "I don't mind the car. It's actually quite nice, although I still have a soft spot for my truck." I shrugged. "It's just. . . . It's yet another thing that distances the gap."

"Between. . ."

"Edward and myself." I looked at the car again; the yellowish-pink light made the shiny paint sparkle with dark, miniscule rainbows. I heard a low rumble and looked at Jacob; his eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply.

"J-Jacob?" I asked timidly. He frowned and then opened one eye to peek at me.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Sorry. Just tired."

"How long have you been running?"

He looked guilty then; he looked down at the dirty, rotting-leaf covered ground. "Three or four days." He shrugged, while half-stifling a yawn. "Kinda lost track."

"Aw, Jake," I mumbled. "Why'd you come here? You need to sleep."

"No," he said too loudly, as if he was trying to prove to me – and to himself – that sleep was the last thing he needed. "No, I'm good."

"Liar," I snorted. He grinned at me before running a hand through his hair. I could sense there was more. "Jacob, why don't you go home?"

"I told you, I'm good."

"Are you avoiding La Push?"

He snorted as if to dismiss the comment. I glared at him. He glanced up at me from under his eyelashes, and then sighed.

"Alright. Alright!" He pushed away from the tree and dug his fists into his jeans pockets. "I guess I am avoiding La Push." He grimaced. "Well, mainly the pack."

I glared at him. "Why the _hell_ would you do that, Jake? Because of me?" I couldn't explain the bubble of annoyance that had burst through me. Maybe it had something to do with Jacob's stupidity. First running away, then avoiding his heritage. . . . Maybe he wasn't as rational as I'd first thought.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Yes, because of you."

For what it was worth, he might as well have said that the proverbial end of the world would be because of my existence. It hurt much more than it should have.

I frowned at him, and he groaned. "No, not that way!" he said quickly.

"Then what way, Jacob? Do they all hate me now, then?"

"No," he muttered. "No, they don't hate you. They hate what I think about you, how I can't let go. . . . They're always in my bloody head!" He rubbed a fist to his temple as if suffering from a headache. "You can't imagine how annoying it is. . . Your mind is supposed to be your sanctuary, the one place you're safe among yourself. Nobody's supposed to be in there, knowing what you're going to say without you having to say it. . . telling you what to do and not being able to disobey." He kicked as the base of a tree, which groaned and shuddered under the impact. "It's hell, Bella."

I didn't answer. His words had reminded me of something Alice had told me, about being completely safe in my own mind. My mental flaw – the one that kept Edward out and thwarted even Jane's potency – was my one defense against most of the supernatural powers I'd encountered. I was lucky; naturally gifted with the ability to resist pain because my mind worked on a different frequency. And I couldn't even switch it on or off.

I felt bad; here I was, annoyed with my natural shield, unable to alter it or remove it, while Jacob stood across from me, avoiding his home to protect his thoughts from his friends. It was like those checks and balances we'd always learned about in government classes. Well, kind of.

"But I guess your bloodsuckers would know all about that," he seethed. "With the mind-reader busting in on their thoughts all the time."

I glared at him, wishing daggers could both emanate from my pupils. . . and then, that they could cause some damage to him. "That's different."

He scoffed. "How, Bella?"

"They don't ever complain about it," I said. "They use it to their advantage. And they know how to hide their thoughts." Like Alice translating a patriotic song into Arabic, or reviewing the sign-language alphabet. "And Edward might know your secrets and your weaknesses, but he wouldn't ever resort to using them against you, like your _dogs_ do." I was being brutal. And I wasn't sure my argument really amounted to anything. I wasn't sure that Sam or Embry or Quil had ever used me against Jacob, or would ever hurt him that way. . .

I froze. Did that mean I was Jacob's weakness? Just as Edward was mine?

"Right," he snorted. "Like he never uses it to his advantage. You can't honestly tell me that if he could read your mind he wouldn't use it to make you trust him."

"I _do_ trust him," I spat, my voice dripping with venom. He'd struck that one chord that I couldn't tune out, and now my anger was swelling into something primal and protective. "I trust him more implicitly than I have ever trusted any one person in my entire life, including my mother, my father, or even you. I'd trust him with my life in his hands, with my very existence. I only _wish _he could read my thoughts. . . perhaps then I wouldn't have to spend half my day convincing him of how much I truly, relentless, and irrationally love him." My words spilled out in a horrible torrent, and I was unable to stop myself. I could see Jacob's reaction even as I tuned it out, even as I was vindictively happy that I was making him livid. And even though I knew what could happen – what_ would _happen – I kept going, an uncontrollable, unrelenting force of nature. Who ever had said hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn had never met _this_ woman when confronted. The expression didn't convey my fury, however irrational or misplaced it was.

"I'd trust him with anything. And that, Jacob, is why I'm joining _him._ Why I'm marrying him, and why I love him more than my own life and heartbeat and everything it might mean to me."

There was a moment of seemingly inexorable silence. It was long enough for me to regain my composure, for my regret to begin to sink in.

And then Jacob began to rip into pieces.

The hand he'd laid on the tree beside him for support was swiftly crumbling the bark there with its vibrations. He was clenching his teeth, gritting them so hard I could heard them grinding in protest against his powerful jaws, so hard I expected them to shatter under the pressure. . .

"Jake," I said, mentally backpedaling. Whatever I had said, whatever I had done. . . I wished I could take it all back. But at the moment I could be sure of what I would take back; I couldn't even really remember _what_ I had said, just that I was responsible for his torment. I was too scared for Jacob, who was shaking harder and more violently than I'd ever seen him. Of more personal importance, though, I was afraid for my own life. Jacob was fighting against his instinct; he was battling against erupting into a werewolf.

He looked like he was failing.

"Go, Bella," he just barely muttered. He collapsed to his knees in his effort to fight back the wave of anger that battered against him. I hovered on the brink of the forest, one foot poised to run, the other inching towards him, my hand reaching for him. I was too close, much too close. Would I end up like Emily, beautiful and tragic and scarred, or would I be shattered completely by Jacob's long, sharp tools of destruction built for shredding vampire skin?

He glanced up at me with bloodshot, tortured eyes, and I felt it break, the wall of resolve I'd been slowly tearing down brick by brick. The one I'd built against my instinct to run. His lips curled back over his beautiful white teeth, and he screamed at me. "_NOW!"_

I couldn't resist him. I didn't want to. The voice that sprang into my mind whenever I was in danger – the one that rang with Edward's jewel tones – uttered words of encouragement when my feet faltered and I stumbled to my knees; I could almost feel his hands pulling me upwards and forward as I looked behind me, towards the forest, where the only sign of Jacob was a shredded shoe, and an ear-splitting howl.

And then I collapsed through the front door, two sets of hands pulling me through into the front hall.

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.  
**I own a set of antique chalkware penguin salt shakers, one named Edward, the other named Emmett. They sit on my bedside table to greet me every morning. o.O Yes, that means I don't own _Twilight_ or any related insignia. Dislcaimers shatter all my hopes and dreams.

**Author's Note.  
**Yeah, I don't really have much to say. Except maybe to plead for reviews/reviewers. Not that I don't love those of you who have reviewed, but it seems there are only a few of you reading this story. . . and even less actually taking the time to comment. Kinda makes me feel like I'm wasting everyone's time, especially my own.

So please, _please_, leave me _some kind_ of comment. They mean the world to me, even if it's just a, "Hey, nice story," or even a "this story sux" -- because you're nobody until you're talked about. Just something to let me know that there's someone out there reading this thing. AND PLEASE, spread the word. If you like this story, tell your friends. Even if you hate it, tell someone. Maybe they'll like it, who knows. Just, please. I'm begging, which I really hate doing. And I really, really hate asking for reviews in my AN's, but sometimes I don't really know what else I can do.


	7. Scene Of The Accident

The voices over my head were both shouting, both familiar. I took deep breaths; I was lying on the floor, feeling it press against my shoulder blades as my lungs worked to get oxygen to my brain, and the light overhead was searing as I looked at the ceiling. So I closed my eyes.

"What _was_ that?" Charlie. I squinted up at him through one eye; he was staring at the face just above mine, who I didn't look at yet. I was afraid to see what emotion might be displayed there. I'd also been sure that the voice I'd heard outside, the hands pulling me to my feet, had been figments of my imagination. Perhaps not. "It sounded like something was hurt."

Edward remained silent, so I finally looked at him; his eyes were locked on mine, intense; his expression told me that he knew everything, and that he was battling with anger, compassion, love, and hatred. For whom each emotion was intended was still unclear to me, so I let my eyes slide closed again.

"It was close; sounded like it was right beside the house," Charlie continued; his voice was quick and panicked, and then his hand found refuge on my shoulder, shaking me slightly. "Bells? Bella? Are you alright?"

"She's fine," Edward murmured. I couldn't find my voice yet to confirm or deny this.

"Then why won't she look at me?" Charlie asked; his hand continued to shake me, each movement becoming a little less gentle and a little more urgent. Finally I took a deep breath and pushed his hand away.

"Stop it, Dad," I muttered. "I'm fine; leave me alone."

Charlie scrambled away from me then, and I heard him stand up and open the front door. A cold finger traced my jaw, and I opened my eyes. Edward was watching me with such intensity that I was instantly aware that something was wrong. Something besides Jacob. I needed to ask him what, but at the moment, it was impossible.

Charlie hovered in the doorway, his gun in his right hand, cocked and poised for shooting. He was close enough that he would have heard anything I would have said. He lingered like that for a few more moments before he turned and caught me staring.

"Whatever it was is gone now," he muttered, before stowing away his gun. "What happened out there, Bella? Where's Jacob?"

I felt Edward stiffen beside me, as nervous for me as I was. I hated lying. Especially to Charlie. I raised a palm to my face and hid my eyes.

"Jake left a few minutes ago," I mumbled around my hand. "I was. . . I was clearing my head in the forest before coming back inside."

Charlie frowned at me. "Did you two get into an argument?" I nodded and shrugged at the same time. Edward saw me struggling and jumped in.

"I arrived just after he left," he said, and I nodded along. "She was stumbling out of the woods, and then I heard the howling. I helped get her inside, and when I turned back there was nothing there."

Charlie glanced at me for confirmation, so I nodded yet again, not yet trusting myself to keep our cover if I spoke. He believed Edward's story, and raised a fist to rub his temple.

"Geesh. . . wolves _here_?" He glanced out towards the front yard again before sighing and closing the front door. "I was so sure the wolf problem was taken care of."

I internally grimaced. If I knew my father, this would mean investigations . . . traps, hunting, large guns. Added stress on the pack, and on Jacob. . .

I was still lying on the floor, Edward kneeling beside me. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, and a moment later Charlie and Edward each had one of my hands, hauling me to my feet.

"You're sure you're alright?" Charlie asked again one I was standing, and I nodded. He took a deep breath and blew it out in a loud gust before ushering back into the living room. "Pizza's on the way," he said, before I heard his chair groan.

And just like that, everything was back to normal according to Charlie.

Edward cocked an eyebrow at me before leading me into the kitchen, where the pizza money had been left in the center of the table. I assumed one of the mismatched chairs; he leaned against the counter in front of the sink.

"Why are you here so early?" I whispered. I could hear Charlie's game in the other room, but talked quietly all the same.

"Alice," he said simply, before turning to gaze out the window over the kitchen sink.

Alice? What did _she_ want? I'd just left their house, anything she could have possibly wanted to tell me could have been done –

Oh. "What did she see?"

"Nothing," he said, then sighed. "She got worried with she couldn't see you anymore, so I explained you were with Jacob. . ."

. . . But there was more, something he was leaving out. I raised a brow at his back. "And?"

He didn't answer me immediately; he instead turned to the table and snatched the pizza money before turning back towards the hallway. The bell rang just a second before he pulled it open; he received the food and handed over the money with a low "Thank you," before shutting the door again. The whole exchange was over in a matter of one minute. He reentered the kitchen and slid the pizza box onto the counter, his back to me still. I was beginning to get annoyed with his hesitation.

I saw his back heave with the deep breath he took. "She saw Charlie involved in an. . . Accident."

I stared at his back for a few minutes. He'd stopped breathing, was the stock-still, living statue that only he could be. I felt the air in my own lungs flow out slowly and steadily, making no noise. And then he was sitting across from me, gauging my reaction and talking in a low, warm tone, the pizza abandoned on the counter. Charlie would find it eventually.

"It'll be fine, Bella. We won't let him. . ." _Die._ There it was. The word that hung in the air around me. So Alice had seen Charlie crash, had seen him injured, had seen him dead. "If we have to carpool him to work every day, we'll do it. If we need to, we'll go to the wolves. . . they'll protect Charlie for his sake, if no one else's."

"When?" I asked. My voice was a cool, calm mask. Inside, there was a voice screaming at me to go wrap my arms around Charlie and never let go. So long as my father didn't leave. I pushed that voice away and locked it up tight. Charlie would be fine; he had half of the supernatural world on his side, protecting him for my sake.

"It was at night sometime," Edward said. I nodded.

"And the cause?"

"It was storming. He lost control on one of the back roads, between Forks and La Push. Like he was in a hurry to get somewhere."

"I see."

Edward watched me for a few minutes silently. I didn't want to say anything. I didn't really know what to say. Edward and his family would watch over Charlie, most likely without him even noticing. Nothing would happen. Nothing would happen. . . I repeated it like a mantra.

"What happened?" I caught Edward's gaze again. He didn't need to complete the question for me to understand what he was asking.

"Jacob doesn't know when to shut up," I said sourly. "And apparently neither do I."

"I have to admit that I heard most of your speech," he said with a small smile. "I was just wondering what he'd said to trigger it."

What _had_ he said? Something about. . . Edward using his abilities to manipulate me? That sounded about right. It was much easier to be angry at him when he wasn't trembling like a frightened four-year-old. Only, a terrifying, dangerous four-year-old.

I dropped my head into my hands. "Ugh, I just want to forget it."

I heard a small sound from Edward from across the table, and then lifted my head. He was half-smiling, half-frowning. It was a perplexing expression. I wasn't sure whether he was happy, sad, sarcastic, annoyed. . .

And then I realized that I didn't want to _forget_ it; I wanted to resolve it. But I couldn't do that with Edward, I needed Jacob. And I had no idea where he was at the moment. Running, somewhere. I wondered what the pack would be telling him – perhaps relaying their battle plans? Perhaps he was helping them plan now. It wouldn't surprise me. I felt like I'd irreparably damaged that small bridge we'd built, the tedious thing that held us together anymore. I couldn't get past the hole in my chest – not really in my heart, but a little lower. It was eating away at me; it was not the ragged, bleeding, painfully throbbing hole that Edward's disappearance had caused; it was a smaller pain, a smaller wound, but a wound all the same.

I was pulled from focusing on the pain by the small movement of Edward's nodding. "Okay," he said simply. I nodded once, and then set my eyes to focusing on small, trifling details of the kitchen I had long ago memorized. One of the cupboards was slightly ajar. The bright green corner of a noodles-and-sauce mix peeked out from behind it.

"Bella."

I blinked and looked at Edward again. "Yes?"

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Spacing out. You know it annoys me more than anything."

Ah. I did know that. Because when I spaced out, it meant I was lingering on some thought that was bothering me. Usually it was the sadness that I could still see in Edward's eyes, his gaze – sadness that he would eventually bring about the end of mortality, which he still saw as a bad thing. Sadness that _he _couldn't change, instead. Sadness that his cold icy hands made me shiver. A century's worth of sadness, all roiling around in his fathomless golden-black eyes.

But right now, my spacing out meant I was still thinking about Jacob, and the deep line just between his eyes – although his lips remained curved upwards just slightly – told me he knew it.

"Sorry," I murmured, before he was kneeling beside me, his hands encasing mine.

"Never mind that, Bella," he whispered. "Right now we need to focus on La Push."

I blinked at him. Wasn't I already focusing on La Push, in a roundabout way? "I'm sorry?"

"The wolves. Their plans are getting more detailed with every new development." He saw the confusion on my face and explained. "When Jacob phased, the first thing they heard was how angry he was at you, and at me. He was absolutely livid," he added in a low voice, and I frowned.

"Oh no," I sighed. So because I had utterly pissed Jacob off, the wolves were that much closer to attacking us.

"Don't worry," he urged, rubbing a small circle on the back of my right hand with the cool pad of his thumb. "Carlisle and I are working on securing a meeting with Sam and Jacob. Until then, Alice _thinks_ we'll be alright. We doubt they can solidify their plans in only a couple of days."

"But Alice can't see the wolves," I said. He nodded.

"But she can see us, and she doesn't see us preparing. . . yet."

We both fell silent, and in the silence a thousand thoughts swirled within my aching head. Jacob was livid with me. The pack had turned from allies to enemies in the course of only a few short weeks. And Alice had seen Charlie . . . but I couldn't even really think about that without shivering.

I wanted, perversely, to know exactly what Alice had seen – was anyone else involved? Had it been quick, or was it painful and slow? – but then I was too afraid of the truth to ask. I felt like two sides of the same coin on so many issues, fighting desperately for dominance, flipping over and over through the air until I couldn't tell up from down or right from left. I folded my arms on the table and rested my head on them, squeezing my eyes firmly shut.

"Bella," Edward asked worriedly, "are you alright?"

"Just a little dizzy," I said weakly. His hand was on my back now, moving back and forth in comforting motions that helped me make sense of my surroundings. The room wasn't really spinning. I was not a coin.

"Perhaps you should try to rest," he suggested quietly. I nodded, not in the mood for arguing or disagreeing, and then stood up, clinging to Edward to stand upright. Why my flipping-coin comparison had suddenly taken a life of its own, I wasn't sure. But although I had no physical reason to suffer vertigo, I was. The floor felt as if it were tipping from side to side as I walked towards the living room; the lights of the television flashing against the back wall, glaring off the glass of multiple picture frames, gave me a migraine. Edward kept a gentle but steady grip on my arm, his other hand at the small of my back.

"Dad?" I called; my voice was very quiet. "I think I'm going to go to bed early."

He muted the TV and looked up at me. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded with a futile attempt at a smile. "Just really tired."

"Kinda sudden, no?" he said. I shrugged, and he nodded. "Alright. 'Night, kiddo. And I'll call your parents and tell them you're on your way, Edward," he hinted. Edward smiled.

"No need," he said with a shake of his head, before slipping out his cell phone. Before he dialed he leaned down to lay a light kiss on my temple. Before he moved away, he whispered into my ear: "Stay upstairs. I'll be back soon." Then he straightened up and said a quick good-bye to Charlie before dialing and putting the phone to his ear. He was out the door before he began to speak. I doubted he had actually called Carlisle or Esme; if I knew him, he was calling Alice for a quick update on the future.

I waved to Charlie one more time and told him the pizza was on the counter before staggering my way upstairs; as if the staircase wasn't a large enough obstacle when I could see straight, under the influence of the inexplicable dizziness, they were downright treacherous. I finally reached the top landing after tripping no less than three times, subsequently clinging to the banister each time to keep from spraining an ankle or tumbling head first back down into the hallway. Once I missed, and my hand came down on the hard edge of the top step. I could feel the tender start of a bruise just on the heel of my hand. Edward would be annoyed that I couldn't even climb a set of stairs without encountering bodily harm, but I believed that under my current state, I was excused.

When I reached my bedroom, I stripped quickly and donned my pajamas before Edward could return; I skipped brushing my teeth and showering, opting instead for snuggling into my bed and flipping through _Pride and Prejudice._ I was only a handful of pages into it, though, when Edward appeared in my window, a finger pressed to his lips in warning as he stepped lithely and silently onto my disorganized bedroom floor. He sidestepped a pair of errant tennis shoes and perched lightly on the edge of my bed, making sure it wouldn't groan. I could still hear the sounds of Charlie's game downstairs, which explained Edward's added caution.

I dog-eared the page that I was on and tossed it to the floor beside the bed while Edward subconsciously flattened the blanket beside him. He ran his hand over it again and again in smooth circles, until it was creaseless. Then he looked up at me.

"Carlisle and I are going tomorrow night." He didn't need to explain further; the wolves had agreed to meet them to discuss the looming battle, which now felt suddenly closer; as if I could see the mushroom cloud of destruction from a great distance, and was waiting for the aftershock to reach me and knock me off my feet. I wasn't ready; I would never be ready to stand and fight the pack, whether they included Jacob in their numbers or not. It was a result of a long, endless night last year, when Jacob had been my sole confidante and I'd spent every waking hour in La Push to avoid the memories of my own home. I'd forged an undeniable bond with the pack – Embry, Quil – and to think of fighting against them when only a few short weeks ago we'd fought _with_ them sent a chill that froze me to the bone.

I nodded, before sidling across the bed to lean into him. As I wound my arms around his torso, entangling myself with him as best I could in the awkward sitting position we were in, I mumbled against his shoulder: "Do you think anything will really happen to Charlie?"

So my efforts to forget about Alice's vision had been in vain. Edward caught the sides of my face in his hands and forced me to look at him. His eyes blazed. "I don't want you to worry about that – I shouldn't have even told you." He raised his brow at me. "We _will_ save him, regardless."

I couldn't ignore such a vehement declaration; I nodded before twisting my neck to kiss the palm of his hand. "Thank you," I murmured against his skin, before resting my head against his chest, tucking the edge of my blanket between his body and my skin so that my ear wouldn't freeze. He flicked the bedside light off and the room was immersed in darkness.

"You're welcome," he said, leaning down to lay a light, whisper-soft kiss on the top of my head. "How is your lightheadedness?"

"Better," I sighed. "Once I got into bed and stopped moving, it went away."

"What brought it on, I wonder. . ."

I didn't have to wonder. I had a pretty clear idea of what had caused my onslaught of symptoms; it'd been a dramatic evening for me, especially when I was used to the routine of wedding planning and ensuring Charlie was fed before going to bed and starting again in the morning. Learning that Jacob was missing only to find out he'd come back. . . being inches from a phasing wolf. . . finding out that my father was in mortal peril. . . It had been a lot to handle, and I wasn't ready to handle it.

But I only shrugged against Edward's chest. He was silent for a few moments, before he rubbed a comforting hand up and down my arm once. "Get some sleep, Bella. . . Alice will have a busy day planned for you to try and keep your mind off things."

I grinned sleepily. "Thanks for warning me." My voice sounded muddled with weariness already. I heard him chuckle and say something that sounded like, "My pleasure." But I was already half gone.

I fell asleep quickly, but it wasn't a restful night. Almost immediately I sank into dark, blustery dreams; one of the more muddled ones included a pack of vicious-looking wolves, all with their sharp teeth bared and growling at me as I stood with Edward and his family. One of the details I remembered most from that dream was looking down at my own hands; they were chalky white and pearly in the weak sunlight that shimmering down through the clouds; they sparkled and shone when I twisted them this way and that.

And then the dream morphed into one that I couldn't shake myself out of; I was stuck on the path my mind was taking me on, and though I could sense what was coming, I couldn't stop it.

I was riding passenger in my truck, which was rumbling under Charlie's feet on the gas pedal and hands on the wheel. As I watched the green blur of Forks crawl past, I was aware of the machine around us growling to faster speeds; we were traveling upwards of fifty-five miles per hour, much faster than my truck had ever gone since I'd driven it.

No. . . I didn't want to have this dream. . .

It was storming; the sky poured hell down on us, fat, quick droplets that glanced off the windshield and pounded it with relentless force. The sound of it was thunderous around us as it battered against the metal cab; it sounded almost like hail rather than rain, and I wasn't so sure it wasn't. The sky was too dark to tell. As I peered up at it through my window, my neck craned at an awkward angle, a great fork of lightning tore a path of electric destruction across the sky, touching the ground somewhere in the forest. It sent a chill through me.

I glanced back at the gauge, my heartbeat picking up pace, and saw that we were going almost sixty-five, much to fast for the vehicle and for the conditions. Surely Charlie knew that; hadn't he attended too many accident scenes that had involved people in a hurry when the weather was bad? Didn't he know it led to disaster? So why was he in such a hurry?

"Dad," I said, my voice sounding hollow and meek. "Dad, slow down."

His eyes were pealed on the road; they didn't deviate from the slick pavement stretched out ahead of him. I could see the infamous curves up ahead, plowing out a path of certain destruction. . .

Hadn't he heard me? "Charlie!" I shouted. "Charlie, _please!_ Slow down!"

There was a growl deep in his throat, as he yelled at the truck. "_Damn it,_ go!"

I was frantic. "_Charlie!"_ A hot, fat tear slipped down my cheek. The curve was approaching, too quickly. . . And beyond it, a great, dense wall of black forest.

He didn't hear me. He _couldn't _hear me. I was passenger to his undoing, the witness who couldn't affect his outcome. The truck continued to plow across the road, and when the curve came, the tires weren't ready to meet it.

The truck hydroplaned straight for the wall of trees. Charlie slammed on the brakes, but they had no effect against the water-slicked roadway.

Where was Edward? Alice, Emmett? Anyone that could help us? Edward had promised. . . and yet the truck continued to veer towards the forest, where the trees stood like very solid, unmovable sentries. . .

Charlie yanked the wheel in panic, and the truck swerved to the right; the tires caught on the concrete lip of the rain cutter and began to roll, flipping rapidly and violently. Charlie's seatbelt snapped with the force of the movement, and he was loose in the cab. . .

I closed my eyes shut, unable to watch but feeling everything. My seatbelt had either come undone as well, or it had never been on; I couldn't remember. I heard the window beside me shatter, along with the back glass and the windshield; as the truck continued to tumble, my body – which felt heavy and solid and real, although I'd thoroughly had no affect on stopping Charlie earlier – was thrown outside the cab of the truck.

The truck continued to twist away from me, finally groaning to a halt against the edge of the trees. I was lying in the cold, wet grass, the water from the sky pouring down on me. I was aware that I was injured, but I couldn't really feel it. I guessed it had something to do with the fact that I was dreaming; my mind was protecting me against the physical pain and torment. But it was doing a horrible job, because I was aware of the fact that Charlie was still in the cab of the truck, which was crumpled and damaged and on it's top. And I didn't know if he was alive or not.

I pulled myself into more of a sitting position; I guess my legs had been injured, because they refused to yield to my mental commands. I pulled myself up, looking towards the wreckage of my truck. The rain was coming down in sheets, making it difficult to see if Charlie had gotten out. . .

"Charlie!" I tried calling, but my dream-voice was thick and muddled, and it made a slight gurgling sound. . . as if my mouth were full of rainwater. . . or blood. "Dad!"

"He won't answer."

The soprano voice came from behind me, and I twisted to look; Alice stood on the pavement, the rain glancing off of it around her. Her long trench coat whipped about in the wind, making loud cracking noises when it snapped back against itself.

"Alice!" I pulled myself towards her, crying out in frustration when I couldn't move fast enough. I expected her to help me, to pick me up, for Edward to appear at my side. . . but Alice was alone for the time being, standing like a tormenting angel in the stormy night and staring at me, where I lay broken.

I reached the pavement and peered up at her against the rain, intimidated and impressed and awed and angry. "Why didn't you come earlier? Edward promised..."

"It wasn't supposed to happen this way." Where my voice had been quiet and hard to hear through the pounding rain and my injuries, hers was loud, crisp, clear as a bell. "It's your fault, Bella. You made it happen." She glanced towards the truck behind me. "I can't help him anymore."

"No," I gasped, my arms collapsing beneath me; my face landed on the wet pavement and I couldn't find the strength to push myself up again. "No, I tried to stop it. . ."

"We tried to help, Bella, but you broke the rules."

"_What rules?"_ I cried. I didn't know. . . What was she talking about? "I don't know... Help. . ."

A flash of lighting lit up the sky behind Alice, and she looked truly frightening for the first time since I'd met her. A fallen angel sent to do Lucifer's bidding. "I can't help you anymore, Bella. You're on your own."

And then she was replaced by Edward, who stared down at me with a broken smile marring his beautiful features. The raindrops against his face looked like tears.

"Bella," he said, and it sounded like a caress. I closed my eyes against the sound of it, because it also sounded like a goodbye. "It's better this way."

I could tell from the way he looked at me that he was trying to make himself believe it; his posture was tense while his shoulders hung low, defeated. His eyes were dark and sad despite the smile he held in place. He looked utterly destroyed, but his remained upright, as if for my benefit. His last act for me would not be to show me his weakness; it would be to show me his strength, for he would be joining me soon anyways. . .

Because he was going to let me die.

No! "No, Edward, please. . ." But I could finally feel my strength waning. At least if he wasn't going to save me. . . "Help Charlie, please. . . Edward, please!" I pleaded. But he was taking slow steps backward, away from us – me, where I lay across the pavement, and my father, who was still trapped in the wreckage. The pulsing, screeching sound of emergency vehicles wasn't far away, but I couldn't see their lights yet. Edward continued to move backwards until he was flying over the rain-soaked ground. And my eyes were trying to close against my efforts to keep them open and hold the darkness at bay, even if it meant watching Edward leave me to die. . .

"Charlie!" I screeched over and over again, until I couldn't hear myself anymore. I couldn't achieve more than that one name. I couldn't even muster the strength to shout Edward's, for I knew I'd see him soon, but I would not be seeing Charlie there, because I wouldn't let his life be over so quickly. . .

When I opened my eyes, it was to Edward's face hovering just inches above mine; one of his cold, restraining hands gripped my shoulders, pining me gently to the bed so that I would not thrash myself out of it, and the other was covering my mouth to stop my screams. I could feel my legs tangled helplessly in the sheets. The darkness hurt my eyes as they fought to adjust. The outline of my room was beginning to take shape behind him, but I could only see his panic-stricken expression. He stared at me silently for a moment before his eyes widened and his lips tightened. He released me and pressed a finger to his lips in warning before flying across my room and into my closet without a sound; he was hidden safely away when my bedroom door flew open and banged against the wall, a hanger that had been dangling on the doorknob clattering to the floor. I sat up quickly as Charlie appeared in the doorway, and his eyes fought the darkness of my bedroom. When he saw me awake, he made a beeline for the bed.

"Bella, honey." He perched on the edge of my bed and hugged me to his chest for a short moment before pulling away. "Bells, are you okay?"

I nodded, still trying to make sense of what was going on around me; I was awake now, but why had Charlie been drawn to my room? "What happened?" I asked; my voice was low with grogginess. Charlie's eyes were wide; he was in his pajamas now, a ragged tee-shirt and a pair of shorts.

"You were screaming at the top of your lungs, Bells," he said, and I could see the worry etched in his unshaven face. "You were shouting my name over and over, as if you were hurt or something. . ."

_No, _you _had been hurt. . ._ "Oh. It must have been a nightmare."

I could see him physically sigh with relief. "You scared me, Bells," he admitted with a small, sheepish grin. "I know Forks isn't exactly a hotbed of criminal activity, but the way you were screaming had the worst visions running through my head." He seemed to shudder. I felt a surge of affection and worry for _him _wash through me and wrapped him in a hug he hadn't been expecting.

"I'm fine, Dad," I reassured him. "Thank you." I pulled away, and he nodded, somewhat embarrassed.

"Well, now," he said before clearing his throat. He smiled at me again before standing up and crossing the bedroom.

"Get some sleep, Bells," he said, before escaping into the hallway and pulling the door shut behind him.

I couldn't help but wonder if that would be the last chance I'd had to hug him, and was glad I had. But I also couldn't keep my mind from replaying the horrible accident it had just displayed for me, and replaying Edward's words over and over again, so that they seemed to ring aloud in my bedroom.

_It's better this way._

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.  
**My ownership extends no farther than the figments of my imagination. Unfortunately.

**Author's Note.  
**Longest chapter yet! Okay, though, for reals, a few things to take care of:

-Credit for the awesome visual/idea of menacing Alice standing in the midst of a storm (although I kinda twisted my version of her) goes to **Lily Turtle**, from her story _Listen To The Music. _The whole story was spectaculacular, but that image stuck with me. I told her that it inspired me, and that if I ever used it I'd credit her. So. . . hands out credit

-A shout-out to a reviewer, because I promised it: **rock'n'rollbitch,** who is my most dependable reviewer. Ever since the third chapter, she's reviewed every single one. So thanks bunches. Here's a life-time supply of lemon-sandwich cookies for your dedication, and half of my personal Penguin Army. They'll protect you from the Manatees of Doom. huggles

Thanks to every one else, as well. Every comment makes me smile.

Now, hit that review button.


	8. Better Which Way?

**EDWARD CULLEN**

This was going to be the end of me, I knew it.

Her closet was dark and confined; her clothes hung around me, her scent ricocheting off them and attacking my senses. My throat burned, but it wasn't unmanageable. It had been a long time since I'd ever been tempted by Bella in that way. Her blood was still the sweetest thing I could imagine, better than any alcoholic's wine or addict's drug of choice. But I had long learned to cope with that side of my nature, to lock it away behind an impenetrable door. Thirst was not my enemy, not now.

No, what was irritating me more than it ever had was not knowing the thoughts that were swirling around in Bella's mind as she soothed her father just feet away from where I was concealed. I watched through the slats in the door as she wrapped him in a hug and muttered to him. "I'm fine, Dad. Thank you," she said before pulling away, and Charlie cleared his throat, embarrassed, before telling her to get some sleep.

Once he was gone, Bella stared at the door after him, as if deeply troubled by something. I watched as her lips turned down in a frown, her lower lip trembling slightly; her eyes were wide and filled with grief and worry. I watched as she pulled her knees up to her chest and tucked her face between them; I saw her back heave twice with silent sobs. And then she gasped and looked towards the closet, as if remembering I was hiding there, and began to wipe her tears away quickly.

"Edward?" she whispered, her voice small and meek.

For the love of all that is holy. What I wouldn't give to understand why she looked at me, so worried, so. . . scared.

I pushed the door away gently, avoiding it's squeaky door hinges, and stepped out into her bedroom. I approached her bed slowly, still trying to unravel her expression.

She definitely looked terrified, but it as different. Not as if this were the aftermath of whatever nightmare she'd had, but as if she was frightened of what could come. Frightened of the future. My fingers itched to dial Alice's number, to call her and ask if she'd seen anything. Bella was unusually perceptive for a human; perhaps she'd picked up on some hint that something bad was going to happen before any of the rest of us? Intuition?

One of her hands reached out and wrapped itself around mine, pulling gently. I followed, and ended up on her bed, beside her. She continued to watch me with wide eyes. She was gripping my hand as tightly as she could.

This was going to drive me to insanity.

"Bella, sweetheart," I soothed, my freehand tracing away the tracks her tears had left behind. She blinked and another rolled down her cheek. "What is it?"

But she resolutely turned her face away from me, too gaze out at the moon-bleached landscape outside her window. I heard her sniffle twice before she faced me again, the traces of her tears gone, a weak and watery smile attempting to break through her cloudy expression. "Nothing, just a bad dream."

I leaned in closer and pressed my lips to her forehead before whispering, "Bella, love. I only want to help."

Her warm skin pulled away from my lips. She had turned the full force of her pretty brown eyes on me, accusing and measuring and worried. "Are you so sure you _can_ help, Edward? When something horrible happens, something that even you can't stop and could possibly kill me, what will you do?"

I watched her with a fierce expression. "That won't happen."

"What about the accident Alice saw?" A wave of some emotion passed over her face, but she recovered quickly. "What if I were involved? What if it killed me?"

I caught her face between my hands, gently enough to not hurt her but firm enough that she couldn't look away. "Isabella, I will do all within my abilities to stop that accident. No one will get hurt." My voice softened, and my hands loosened their grip; I began tracing her features slowly with the pad of my thumb. "Besides, Alice only saw Charlie."

She pulled away and I let her; She bit her lip. "Edward, I saw the accident. I was _in_ it." I furrowed a brow, and she shook her head once. "I dreamt it, but it was. . ." She took a deep, rattling breath, and when she began speaking again, her voice was rushed and unsteady. "You and Alice were late, and we _died._ Charlie and I both. . . And Alice said that I'd broken the rules, and I couldn't be helped, and you said it was better this way—"

"Bella!" I caught her hands, which has been clutching the blankets around her in a death grip, and held them in my own against my chest. "It was a dream, Bella, that's all. It won't happen; I promised you that my family and I would do everything to prevent Charlie from getting hurt, and I will keep that promise." I leaned in pressed my lips to hers in a momentary reassuring gesture. I heard her give a small, short sigh. "And we would _never_ let anything happen to you, Bella Swan. You are one of us now, so deeply rooted in our lives that to lose you would cause irreparable damage to each one of us."

She stared at me for a few minutes before scooting closer and burrowing her face into the crook of my neck. We sat there in silence for a long time, my hand running over her smooth hair and her sniffles coming at irregular intervals.

_And you said it was better this way. _I winced as I replayed the memory of her saying those eight words. Her eyes had widened and filled with pain, her shoulders had slumped and she had looked utterly defeated. As if she had accepted and was preparing for my to hurt her, or leave her again. I winced again. She knew how much I utterly loved her, how far I would go to make her happy. What I would do to ensure her safety, for without her my life was a dark void. That I had hurt her in any way conceivable, even in her dreams, caused a ripple – no, a tidal wave, a devastatingly destructive tidal wave – of grief and anxiety to rip through me.

And then there was the nagging feeling that she was right – sort of. I was still convinced that her humanity and her soul were far too precious to make the change and convert her to immortality for, seemingly, my own selfish intent. I loved her, and the prospect of eternity with her was hard to pass up, but there was still a loud, hard to ignore part of me that wished there was a different way around it.

And that meant that, were I faced with the horrible idea of her dying from some more natural cause, there was a part of me that would fight tooth and nail to let her die a natural death. If she were, God forbid, involved in some accident where she were fatally injured and I had only moments to save her, that part of me would argue to the sun and back to simply hold her, and then follow her as soon as possible.

_Because it's better that way_, that part of me argued now, flashing an image of Bella now – warm, blushing, human – next to one of what I imagined she would look like as one of us: cold, hard, indestructible. She was still the same Bella, but it was different now. She was not as easily protected by me, but rather by herself; she was strong and independent. It was wrong; the essence of Bella was her humanity, and even if she argued she'd still have that as a vampire, I felt differently. It was indescribable.

She fell asleep sometime between midnight and one o'clock. I covered her with a blanket and made sure it was tucked between my body and hers, but continued to hold her. I didn't want to let go. Our conversation tonight had made me feel that my time with her was limited, and though I knew that wasn't the case with our wedding just around the corner, it worried me.

My phone buzzed around two, and upon seeing Alice's name on the screen, I panicked. She would only call at this time of night in case of an emergency. What else could go wrong tonight?" I answered in a voice below a whisper. "What is it?"

"Is Bella okay?"

I gazed down at her. Her hair was covering part of her face, and her breathing was irregular. It was not a restful sleep, though it was more so than before. "She's alright now; she's not been having a particularly good night, though. Why, Alice? _What is it?_"

I heard her take a deep breath, and then she said, "I'm not sure. I had a flash of her in pain or something, but it was only a split second. Then it went away, but it was different. . . not as if the vision was finished, but something had stepped in the way. Kind of like what happens when—"

She stopped suddenly, and I mentally finished her sentence. _When the werewolves are involved. _"That's all you saw?"

"That's all."

"Explain everything."

She went on to describe the vision for me in as much detail as she could which, seeing as the vision had been roughly three or four seconds, wasn't much. When she was finished, I said, "I'll talk to her in the morning. Thank you, Alice."

When we hung up, I gently wrapped both my arms around Bella, hugging her to my chest while she slept.

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.  
**Ownership is not mine. However, I do own a rake, with which I intend to beat each and every disclaimer I've ever had to write within an inch of its life, because they're all evil. I promise, I'm not a violent person. :)

**Author's Note.  
**Why, hello kind peoples! I know, long time no see! I apologize for the mini hiatus on this fic. It's back now, though. So yay!

Sorry as well for the shortness of this update. I needed to get out of Edward's head (I've been trying to write this chapter for EVAH and was having difficulties, and I feel it's not really up to par with my Edward-ness, meaning I don't really like it, but there's some important stuff in it that I don't want to take out or have to rewrite. Teehee. . .), so in the next chapter we'll go back to Bella's POV. I have an easier time writing as her, it flows much easier and faster lately.

Thanks for reading and bon appetit!


	9. Tribe Involvement

**BELLA SWAN**

"Could you grab the milk?"

I was digging around in the cereal cabinet, looking for one that looked appetizing. Fruity Pebbles, Cheerios, Rice Krispies. . . no. I settled for a box of Frosted Flakes and returned to my bowl on the opposite counter. Edward stood there waiting for me, the jug of milk on the counter next to the bowl. He watched me as I poured some of the flakes into the bowl, his dark golden – almost brown – eyes watching me intently. I graced him with a grateful smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said. His voice was low and quiet and muted. Something was off.

When I had first woken up this morning, Edward's arms had been wrapped around me like a comforting ice sculpture, and it was difficult to move. I'd had to nudge him several times to get him to move, and even then he'd been anxious to let go. I'd cocked an eyebrow at him as I pattered off towards the bathroom to get ready for Alice's busy day. When I'd returned, he'd barely moved; he was still on my bed, watching the door as if he'd been waiting with bated breath for me to walk back through it – a very conceivable concept. I'd laughed at him; I was trying to put yesterday in the past where it belonged, and I'd greeted today with a happy attitude. Edward was putting a damper on it.

"Cheer up, Charlie," I'd singsong-ed, before coming down for breakfast.

Now, Edward was watching my every movement like an overprotective parent agreeing to let their child run rampant across the playground, waiting for me to trip or make a mistake that would endanger my safety. I felt jinxed, and when I reached into the silverware drawer for a spoon, I pricked my finger on the dull end of a knife. Not sharp enough to draw blood, but just painful enough that I slipped and yelped a quick "ouch."

His hard, penetrating gaze locked and loaded, I sighed and plunged my spoon into the bowl before looking back at him. "What?"

"What are you planning?"

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "I beg your pardon?"

He sighed, but stayed where he was, perfect and immobile. "Alice called. She saw you driving towards La Push in a frenzy, right up until everything went blank."

"And you supposed I'm scheming something?" In a different circumstance I might have been angry or annoyed; instead, I grinned. "I'm touched that you think I'm capable of scheming, but honestly, Edward. You know I'm a lousy liar."

His head tilted to the side and he took a few steps closer, till he was hovering in my personal space. I honestly didn't mind in the least. It was as if every nerve ending was yearning to make contact with his own; as if I could feel them reaching out to touch him. I shivered closer too, craning my neck to maintain eye contact.

One of his hands traced my jaw and pushed a lock of hair behind my ear. His voice purred in the back of his throat before he murmured, "You may not be capable of lying, but you're very capable of scheming, Isabella." He cocked an eyebrow at me before stepping away and leaning against the opposite counter and flicking open the day's newspaper, which lay abandoned on the table. I took a few moments to compose myself before I took my bowl and sat in one of the mismatched chairs. I couldn't come up with a response, so I decided to drop the subject, and hope Edward would chose to move on as well. For the time being, at least.

I finished my cereal in silence, in much the same manner that Edward refused to speak, as well.

When I'd washed up and was ready to go, I grabbed my keys out of the bowl by the door and twirled them around my finger. Edward slowly folded up the paper and joined me at the door, reaching for the knob. Before he could, I laid a hand on his chest.

"Edward," I said, my voice level, "you're scaring me. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing going on in this head of mine that I would try to hide from you, no plan or scheme. I understand that you trust Alice's vision implicitly, but she's been wrong before." Of course, Alice wasn't wrong often; when Alice was wrong, it usually meant bad news. But unless she was seeing something I was planning before I was even aware that I was planning it, this appeared to be one of those rare instances of instability of Alice's precognition.

He closed his eyes for a moment before laying his hand over mine where it rested on his torso. "I _will_ keep a watchful eye on you, Bella. I will protect you from whatever is going to happen, whether Alice is wrong or right."

I nodded, eyes wide. "Of course." My voice was quiet, subdued.

Edward laid a gentle kiss on my forehead before leading me towards the truck (which I still insisted on driving until it's dying day, which fortunately had not come yet), holding open the door for me and giving me a supportive hand when I threatened to tumble off the running board. Once I was tucked safely into the truck I gave him a chagrined smile; he grimaced before closing the door and rounding the front fenders to get in the passenger side.

The ride to the house was quiet.

After pulling into the long driveway, Edward was at my door before I'd barely gotten the truck stopped. He held out a hand to help me down, but instead of simply helping me, he pulled me to his chest in a tight embrace.

"You're sure nothing's wrong." It wasn't a question. I craned my neck upward to try and see his eyes, which I couldn't.

"I'm sure," I reiterated. "Listen, you yourself have said that Alice's visions aren't always reliable, that she only sees the path people are one while their on it."

"Which causes me to wonder why she saw you on the path that would cause you bodily harm by Jacob's tribe."

Shocked, I pulled away from him. "What's Jacob got to do with it?"

Edward sighed, his hands retracting to his own hair. "Alice saw something last night—you were in pain—and then something jumped into the middle of the vision." He dropped his hands to his sides and stared at me with cheerless eyes. "It went blank."

Oh. "Werewolves."

Edward nodded.

"But just because the vision went blank, doesn't mean it was _Jacob_ who interfered," I reasoned. For what reason I was unsure. I knew Jacob was angry with me, which may have contributed to my defense of him now, in some pathetic attempt to make it right. Edward shrugged.

"No, it doesn't… But we can't treat this lightly, Bella." He reached down and secured one of my hands in his own, entwining his fingers with mine. "I'm moments away from keeping you under my own personal watch twenty-four seven."

I grinned up at him. "That doesn't sound half bad. Maybe we could try that hostage thing we've talked about."

Edward chuckled as he led me up the front porch steps. Alice ambushed us as soon as the door opened, and therefore any remaining communication was reduced to eye contact.

Which was slowly torturing me. Edward's eyes betrayed his inner turmoil, all spelled out in topaz. He and I had always been so deeply connected, but I realized that I was feeling the same way Edward was only once Jasper cleared his throat and shot us both a withering glare.

"Do you mind?" he said, annoyed. Alice looked up from the thick stack of paper that was her checklist.

"Sorry," I said, blushing. Edward didn't speak, but I imagined he was communicating with Jasper and Alice, a fact that was confirmed when Edward shook his head curtly and said quietly, "Later."

I looked up at Alice, who nodded. She turned to Jasper, who looked wary. "Later, he promised," she said surely.

I felt so human. If I hadn't known they were communicating via some higher power, I would have felt simply stupid.

Alice turned back to me with a small smile her silent mostly-silent conversation with Edward and Jasper brushed aside easily and quickly. "It looks like almost everything is in order for the wedding," she said. I breathed a sigh of relief. She smiled. "The only thing left now is to make sure you don't accidentally kill yourself on the way down the aisle."

Edward groaned. "Alice, please…"

I snorted. "Actually, that'd be just my luck, wouldn't it?"

Alice grimaced. "You'll be fine. If I must, I'll carry you down the aisle myself," she said, her eyes determined. "Nothing's going wrong on your wedding day."

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.  
**I currently hold ownership over a life-size cutout of Edward Cullen and a ice cream birthday cake that says, "And so the lion fell in love with the lamb." Unfortunately, Edward doesn't say very much and I can't even touch the cake until Sunday afternoon (that's right - I'm officially an adult as of Sunday! Yay 18!)

**Author's Note.  
**This originally started out as only half of chapter nine, but the next part is just too good to add to this. So here's this chapter, and chapter 10 is halfway written already, so expect it fairly soon. ;)

Thanks for reading, remember to comment!!


	10. A Vow

**BELLA SWAN**

I woke up the next morning, the remnants of my dream hanging on the back of my mind like the lyrics of a song stuck on repeat. I kept replaying it to myself like a flicker of bad memories. Wolves, and a clearing that had previously housed a fight against a newborn contingent set on my demise. This time, Victoria was absent. And the wolves were no longer our allies.

Edward noticed something was wrong yet again, but this morning he decided to let me dwell in silence. He simply kissed me good-morning before I slipped away to the shower. His silence meant he was thinking as well, which worried me. On what was he concentrating? Had something happened during the night, perhaps?

When I returned from my shower, hair towel-dried and only slightly damp, Edward was sitting on the edge of my bed in clean clothes, a set of fresh clothes laid out beside him. He looked up at me apologetically when I cocked an eyebrow at the ensemble, which included my most well-loved pair of jeans and his favorite blue blouse, and asked, "Special occasion?"

He nodded. "Every day that I wake up beside you is a special occasion, Bella."

I smiled at him before he slipped out of my room, allowing me to dress in privacy. On his way out, he kissed the top of my head gently. I pulled on the clothes quickly and met Edward in the hallway. I hadn't checked the time, but it was late enough that Charlie had left for work already.

Edward led me down the stairwell and out to the driveway, where the Volvo waited. I noticed for the first time his own clothing: a clean, crisp white shirt with pearly buttons, the top two buttons undone casually, and his favorite pair of jeans. It was different than his usual apparel, which usually included a slightly-rumpled blue collared shirt, or his navy blue long-sleeved Henley, or the soft gray shirt that he knew I loved.

It _was_ a special occasion. But what occasion could it be? I mentally tallied everything up in my brain as Edward helped me into the car and began driving.

It wasn't anyone's birthday, as far as I could recall. Charlie's was in January, and the Cullens had given up holding birthday parties since my last. I was almost certain that every option had been accounted for and dismissed, when I realized Edward was driving towards the meadow.

"What's going on?" I asked. Edward simply grinned at the windshield at he kept going.

It was an overcast day. I watched the clouds move as Edward came to a stop at the pavement's end, all the while wondering what he was up to and whether I should just go along with it. He knew I hated surprises.

He opened my door for me and offered me his hand; when I took it, he swung me swiftly onto his back, and then he was running.

I buried my face into shoulder. I wasn't as afraid of the speed anymore, but the notion of moving at a speed that could and would kill me were Edward to falter somehow (not that it seemed likely) often gave me a sure sense of motion sickness, a feeling which was avoided if I simply didn't look.

After just two minutes, he slowed to a walk. I felt the cool breeze he'd created with his sheer speed stop altogether, so I looked up from his shoulder as he neared the center of the field.

His entire family stood in the meadow, each dressed casually, but each looking somehow as if they'd stepped off the pages of some windswept photo-shoot. Carlisle smiled at us as Edward helped me off his back. I looked around at all of them.

"What's going on?" I asked again, my gaze narrowing as my eyes swept around to Alice and then, finally, back to Edward.

Esme smiled at me. "It was all Edward's idea. Alice wasn't too happy…"

"…But, I promised her all her hard work wouldn't go to waste, and she agreed." Edward was grinning at Alice, who rolled her eyes at him but kept smiling.

The pieces still weren't really meshing in my head. "Agreed to what?"

Edward's cool hand enveloped mine. "When we were speaking yesterday, and Alice said that she would ensure nothing went badly on the wedding day, I started to think about all the ways that something _could_ go wrong," he said. I snorted.

"Of course you would," I said. Emmett chuckled.

Edward continued. "And when I thought about it, I realized that three weeks is too long to wait."

A titter flared up behind me; I spun to see what the commotion was and saw Esme with a hand to her lips, her eyes sparkling with joy. My eyes slid to Alice, who was smiling widely beside Jasper, who was snickering at my confounded expression. Rosalie, who at least wasn't scowling, next to Emmett, who's goofy expression made me grin. And Carlisle, who nodded at me once my eyes met his. His nod felt like approval, like acceptance and love and friendship. I couldn't _not_ want this, a family. I couldn't disagree with whatever was happening, if every one of the people I held most dear—except for Charlie and Jacob—were here encouraging me to do it, a promise tha tif I simply said yes, the world was mine.

I took a deep breath before my eyes completed the circle and landed again on Edward, who's eyes danced with excitement. It was the first time I'd seen him this happy in a few days. My mood, being instantly effected by his as it always had been, instantly picked up, so that I was almost giddily content as I watched him drop to one knee. I couldn't even find in me the anger or embarrassment this action might have warranted under different circumstances.

"Isabella Swan," he started, "I know that I have asked this question before. And I know that you have given me an answer," he said, almost as if he were unsure of it.

"My answer will never change," I said quietly, kneeling down so I was even with him as his family watched from behind. "Ten days, twenty years, all of eternity—the answer to that question has always been and will forever remain a resolute yes."

He smiled, his hand curling around my own, his other hand reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair away from my face and landing there on my cheek. "Bella, will you marry me?"

I nodded.

Edward's smile brightened again. "Will you marry me _today_?"

My breathing hitched. The clothing, the meadow, his family gathered here. . . I knew it'd all been leading up to something big. I had almost been convinced that his third proposal to me would be the occasion, cementing that proposal in front of his family before the wedding date, to solidify it. But, of course, when it came to Edward and his plans, I was usually wrong, and this proved no different.

"T-today?" I stammered. Edward nodded, still smiling.

A million different reasons of why I shouldn't ran through my head. Charlie and Renee were absent, for one. Jacob wasn't here, either—though I hadn't been exactly expecting him at the ceremony anyways, no matter how much I wished he would be there. There was no minister, I didn't have my dress, Edward had no tux, our rings (simple white gold bands, tradition and modernity mixed into a simplistic symbol of eternity) were still at the jeweler's getting fitted, there were no flowers. . .

And then there was one, blaringly bright reason as to why I _would _do it. Love. A promise of forever made on a prom night which seemed a lifetime ago already. A family.

Edward.

Instead of answering, I closed the foot-wide distance between us, my arms locking around his neck, my lips crashing hard against his. This is what I wanted, forever, every part of it. Living without it wasn't an option.

When I surfaced a minute later—at Edward's persuasion—I turned to Alice. "If we do it now, we still have to have a ceremony, right?"

She nodded. "We can make it official now, but we still have to make it public."

I rolled my eyes at her before Edward helped me to my feet, grinning. Once I had wiped the grass and weed remnants from my knees, Edward turned to his family, still lined up in a neat row. "Emmett?"

Emmett stepped forward with a large, cheesy grin. He winked one honey-brown eye at me before he assumed a spot in front of Edward, whose hand was linked with mine.

"Ready, Bella?" Edward asked quietly. I took one deep breath, my eyes closed, and as I exhaled I found that all the dim-witted reasons I could have used to get out of this had disappeared.

When I opened my eyes again, Edward was watching me, apprehensive. His ocher eyes sparkled with insecurity.

I squeezed his hand once and nodded. He sighed.

Emmett cleared his throat.

"Well, then," he said, "let's get this thing started."

The ceremony wasn't very long, nor did it feel like a ceremony. It wasn't the organza- and tulle-infested extravaganza I'd seen in movies and half expected Alice to pull out of her sleeves on July 19th.

Emmett had breezed through the official part quickly and easily—I wondered vaguely how long it'd taken him to complete his online course—and only when it came to the vows did he stop talking. He looked at Edward with a raised eyebrow, and then Edward turned to face me. I followed suit, and he caught my free hand in his.

"Bella," he said, his voice low. His eyes shone. "For more than a century I have lived with a loving family, a content life. But one thing was missing. It had always been missing, even before this," he gestured to himself, his eyes, to indicate his change. "I wasn't complete. It felt as if the sun were only partially visible, the rest obscured by some dim-witted cloud that was keeping me away from everything I wanted.

"And then you were there, tempting me, changing me. The cloud moved aside, and I finally saw the sun's light properly. It changed the way I viewed the world, the way I treated others. It changed me. Irrevocably, uniquivocably. Bella, you are my other half. There will never be any reason for my to need anyone else. It has always been you—before I knew who you were or when you would come to be—and forever shall it remain you."

There was a low whisper-like sigh behind us, but I ignored it. Emmett had turned to me, but Edward's words were swirling around my head, twisting in and out and latching themselves into the special part of my heart where I stowed every memory I held dear. This moment would last forever there, like a precious jewel tucked safely away in the hidden compartment of a jewelry box.

"Bella?"

Emmett's voice brought me to, and I took a deep breath.

"I can't find words perfect enough to describe how I feel about you, Edward," I said, somewhat clumsily. My voice shook. "I can't find the right metephor to describe the difference you've made in my life. I can only tell you, and hope that you understand, that I love you more than life itself. I love you more than the air I need to breathe, or the blood that pumps through my veins, or the heart that beats within my chest. I can't live without them, but it is you that it would truly hurt to lose. You _are_ my life, my soul, my air, my heart. And there's no reason for the world if you aren't in it."

While I'd been speaking, Edward had moved closer to me, as I had to him. Our foreheads were now just two inches away from each other.

Emmett had said the words, "you may kiss the bride," so quietly that I almost didn't hear. Edward had, however, and he closed the distance between us quickly.

When we separated a minute later, he leaned his forehead against mine.

"I'm sorry my vows kind of sucked," I whispered. Edward laughed, then shook his head.

"Never," he said. "They were perfect." And he kissed the tip of my nose.

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.  
**[on phone] What do you mean, _it's not mine? _Hmph. Fine. [hangs up phone] Guys, it's not mine. Apparently.

**Author's Note.  
**Go ahead, float away on your fluffy fluff clouds. I know I did. =)  
Reviews would be loverly.


	11. Flashback Fire

**BELLA SWAN**

_This memory stands out, brighter than the rest. The one of our first marriage. Human marriage. Breathing, beating, living marriage._

_Breathing… lungs? Did I still have them? Where were they?_

_Edward's hand wraps around mine. I watch from above, as if I'm a bird. Edward's hand wraps around mine, but I do not feel it. I feel only the breeze that blows across the prairie grasses in the meadow. And I feel their love. Our love. His love._

_My love._

_A spasm of pain, in my chest. Under the bite marks, near my heart. My hands ball into fists at my sides. This pain feels like fire. Passion. But too hot._

"_I'm sorry my vows kind of sucked."_

"_Never. They were perfect."_

_He kisses my nose. I feel the flutter of my heart._

_A heartbeat too weak to be mine, to be human._

_Alice is there. She wraps her arms around me, kisses me on the cheek. "Welcome to the family, Bella," she says. I watch as I hug her back, my expression unfathomably happy. Esme's there, too. She hugs me, as well._

_Rosalie doesn't hug me. But somehow the look she gives me lets me know that I'm accepted. She's forgiven me the stupidity of my choice. I'm forgiven for choosing immortality over humanity. _

_Emmett ruffles my hair gently. Jasper smiles at me. Carlisle's arm sneaks around my shoulders in a fatherly embrace. I watch from my perch above them all. So much love the trees whisper with it._

_I'm happy._

_I'm in pain._

"_Edward," I cry. The sound is lighter than a whisper, hoarse, dry. As if I'm combusting, burning like paper from the inside out. But there's still a hand there to accept me. To try and sooth me. It's so hot now that his cool touch can't help. He feels warm. It feels wrong._

_I writhe away from him. I hear a sob, and issue one in return._

_Hell. I'm in Hell? I didn't remember dying._

_Unless I died of love. The reverse of a broken heart. I had to much, so it was taken away. That would make sense. I wouldn't even be angry. I would understand. I would understand, because it wasn't fair. I was too blessed. It only fit that I be punished._

_Alice whispers in my ear as we all turn to leave the meadow. Not whispering to keep secrets. There were no secrets with the Cullens._

"_You're wanted here. You're one of us."_

_One of us. _

_My frail, smoldering heart beats again._

_-- -- --_

**Disclaimer.  
Nadda. =( **

**Author's Note.  
Just trying something new. =) Wanted to get this story moving in the direction I first invisioned a little quicker, jumpstart this story and my enthusiasm for it. Don't worry, we still have quite a ways to go before we catch up with where this little flashback starts up. ;)**

Reviews are cool.


	12. Dangerous Love

**BELLA SWAN**

We had left the meadow. We were in Edward's bedroom, Clair de Lune quietly filling up the space around us as we lay on his bed. His arms were wrapped around me. I fell into the embrace with willing arms, body, spirit, heart, mind.

As his nose nuzzled against my hair, however, something almost forgotten struck me.

His and Carlisle's meeting with Sam and Jacob. Surely _he_ hadn't forgotten about it.

I asked him about this, my voice quiet and meek. I couldn't find it within myself to be annoyed, not on this day.

He sighed before answering. "I rescheduled."

I frowned up at him. "Why? Is it really something to postpone? I was under the impression that speaking to Sam and Jacob was of utmost importance."

He smiled at me. "_You_ are of utmost importance. That's why, when Alice said she'd do anything to get you down the aisle safely, I realized that it was pertinent for me to marry you, so that nothing would happen to prevent such a thing. And so that I could call you my own officially." He grimaced then. "Well, not quite officially. There's still a small matter of a license." I gaped at him. "But that's why we're still having a ceremony, love. For now, we know that we are bound together by our vows, and that will suffice until the ceremony."

I pushed myself up off his chest slightly. "Does that mean that the post-wedding agreement we came to… is that, um," I hesitated. "Is that part of the pertinence, as well?"

Edward grinned at me, before rolling me underneath of him. His arms positioned themselves on either side of my head, supporting him.

His breath fanned across my face. "Not yet."

With a chuckle he rolled onto his side. I glared at the ceiling above me, right where Edward's face had been, fuming. "Fine."

He laughed again, before seizing my hand and placing a layer of kisses on the inside of my wrist. "Now, back to Sam and Jacob."

I pushed myself onto my elbow to face him. "When are you going?"

"Tonight." He twirled a piece of my hair between his fingers. Suddenly my worry-free day had flipped; I was now stressing about this meeting. It seemed it would decide all our fates. No, not seemed. Would.

"Can I go?"

He glared at me. "Certainly not."

I rolled my eyes. "I went when you were training… that had to be ten times more dangerous than tonight's meeting."

He shook his head vehemently. "Last time, the wolves were on our side. Now they'll be searching for any reason to attack."

He was not soothing my nerves. "So let me go. Maybe I can be the olive branch. You know, the peace offering."

He snarled quietly. "You are not a peace offering, Bella. And that's the worst idea I've ever heard, no offense," he added, when he saw my expression. "Look, Jacob's still angry. And bringing you along when you are the reason this whole feud has erupted—again, no offense—would only add fuel to the inferno."

I watched his expression closely, picking up a few hints here and there. "Sam doesn't like me all that much anymore, does he?"

Edward grimaced. "He's not your biggest fan, no."

I groaned before throwing myself on my back. "Great. I'm sure my chances of winning Jacob back are slim to none now, what with the pack telling him how bad of a person I am every waking moment."

Edward leaned over me. "Bella, has it ever occurred to you that, perhaps, someone who will hate you because of a choice you make, isn't someone you should be friends with?"

I glared at him. "We are not discussing if I should or shouldn't be friends with anyone. I'm sure that the general census on _you_ would conclude that a vampire isn't the ideal choice for a husband."

He grinned at me. "I like that word coming from you. Husband."

His smile was infectious. "It is kind of nice, isn't it?"

He nodded before capturing my lips in a kiss. I locked my arms around his neck; if I'd had my way, he'd never had gotten free. When he pulled away a few moments later, I expected him to give me the reproving look he usually gave. But it never came.

Instead his lips moved to my collarbone, barely peaking out from the collar of my button-down blouse. My chin tilted upwards, my neck arching, to give him access; his tongue darted across my skin once, twice, before his lips closed and he dusted my collarbone with feather-light kisses. My eyes slid shut, and a quiet moan slipped past my lips.

Upon hearing my moan, Edward emitted one of his own; the sound was feral and passionate. To allow himself better access to my neck and shoulders, he tugged on the top button of my shirt, which popped off, breaking the thread. Despite the wonders he was working on my neck, I wanted desperately to feel his lips on my own again; I wrapped my fingers around his messy curls and tugged upwards slightly. But he didn't respond.

Instead, a row of sharp, smooth, cold teeth grazed against the skin of my neck.

I froze; my fingers remained entwined in his hair, no longer pulling; My eyes flew open, staring at the ceiling above me. I was afraid to breathe, dearing that any inch I moved would put me in even closer proximity to his dangerous teeth.

He'd stopped moving, too, as if my reaction had alerted him. He was absolutely silent. He wasn't breathing.

My fingers slowly unlocked and released his head; they slid to the mattress with a quiet thump. The rest of my body remained stock still, while my eyes slid shut and then opened again three times. No one could be silent like Edward.

"Edward?" My voice was a faint whisper; I knew he'd hear. My breathing hitched in my throat, and as if that movement—my chest bucking ever so slightly, the muscles of my neck contracting—acted as a trigger, he was off of me and standing in the corner of the room.

I sat up slowly and watched as he glared at me. "Please say something."

His eyes slid shut. "I'm sorry."

I huffed. "Don't be," I coaxed, trying too sooth him.

His eyes flew open, his brow furrowing as he stared at me. A ray of stray sunshine—errant and lost, the only ray to appear all day—floated through the wide glass wall, slanting across the bed, sending a warm light across my legs. "I almost lost control, Bella."

I rolled my eyes. "But you didn't."

"That doesn't mean anything."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "It does in my book."

He snorted before glaring out the window.

I sighed. "Edward, what you did isn't _wrong._ It's normal. And the fact that you had restraint enough to be that close to biting me and refraining proves to me that you're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

He still didn't look at me. I was starting to get annoyed.

"Look, you big, sparkling idiot, get over here before I divorce you."

He grinned out the window despite himself. Almost as quickly as the smile had erupted he doused it, but turned and began to take slow steps back towards the bed.

"If you're going to threaten me," he said, "at least use a threat that I can believe."

I smiled, watching as he avoided walking through the sunlight, even in the confines of his own bedroom. He was near enough that that I reached out and seized his hand; as I tugged back, the sunlight crawled across his hand, up his arm, across the fabric of his shirt. Finally he knelt on the bed in front of me, the sunlight glancing off his neck, his straight nose, his defined cheekbone. Prisms danced across the walls. I leaned forward, crawling up onto my knees so that I was almost even with him.

His eyes moved down to my neck, which was exposed by the collar of my shirt. Pain flitted across his features momentarily, and then he lifted his hand to brush his fingers gently against my skin there.

"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly. I frowned.

"What?"

"This…" His fingers were brushing a circular shape, at the base of my neck. My brow furrowed, I lifted my own fingers to the area he was tracing to feel for any damage. I found none, but could sense what Edward was seeing. Probably a dark, bruise-like shape taking place. I chuckled once, before shaking my head.

"It's nothing, it doesn't hurt at all." Then I laughed again. "Though it may hurt when Alice kills you if this hickey doesn't go away before the other wedding."

He laughed, and then fell silent. He moved backwards slightly, so that he was out of the sunlight. The rainbows he'd been casting disappeared. I frowned at him, and then wrapped my fingers around his shirt.

"Stop hiding," I whispered, before yanking him forward again and kissing him gently, slowly. He returned the kiss as if he were taking great caution, redefining the boundaries he'd determined in the early stages of our relationship. I didn't push those fine lines; I didn't, for fear they'd break, and either one of us would do something we might regret.

A handful of moments later, once Edward had pulled away, I sighed.

"And you're absolutely sure I can't come tonight?"

He nodded once. "Absolutely, positively, certainly, unquivocally, and all other synonyms."

I rolled my eyes at his obstinacy before settling against his chest. His fingers stroked my hair, and peace washed over me.

Married. I turned my head to the left an inch or two and kissed his cool chest through his crisp shirt. I could get used to matrimony.

We laid like that for several hours, while the sun sank below the clouds and the sharp sliver of a moon—unobscured, for once, by the thick, dark clouds—slipped in playfully among the night's rippling skirt of stars. The light on the bedside table had never been turned on, so the night sky was perfectly visible to us outside his window, moonlight filtering through in the sun's place.

Edward glowed.

It was not the sparkling, dazzling effect the sun had on him. It was as if the sun were within his very skin, instead of just glancing off of it. He held a faint luminescence, a subtle radiance that was even more beautiful than in the daylight. I snuggled closer to him, relishing the feel of his body between my arms—mine, to hold, to complete—before relinquishing my grip.

"You should go," I whispered. He nodded once, before his lips brushed my forehead and he had risen from the bed.

"You should go home, for Charlie's sake. Alice will drive you," he said quietly, moving across the room and towards the door. "Just let her know when you're ready."

"Be careful," I warned. He smiled.

"For you, always," he said, before slipping out of the room. I watched the closed door for five minutes before I pushed myself up and went off in search of Alice.

I found her in the dining room, pouring over her checklist. That was the thing about Alice; the world could be crumbling around her and I was sure she'd still be checking, rechecking, and solidifying every detail about the upcoming ceremony.

As soon as I entered the room, she looked up.

"Are you ready to go home?" She swiftly recapped her pen and straightened up the disorganized table, stacking papers, lining up writing utensils.

I nodded. "But, Alice, can I ask you something?"

She looked up at me with a knowing smile. "I can't see them, Bella."

I nodded again. "I know."

She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder for a fer moments before standing up. "Come on, I'll take you back to Charlie."

I followed suit and followed her to the garage, where she located the Volvo's keys and started it's engine. Once the engine's rumbling start faded into a quieter purr, I turned to her, brow furrowed.

"Alice, are we all going to be okay?"

She looked at me, her eyes weary and lips tighter than normal. "They're affecting that outcome, too."

I frowned at her. "What does that mean? Edward said—"

Alice's eyes slid shut, and she sighed, leaning against the headrest. "Edward says a lot of things for your benefit, Bella. Sometimes that means he simply stretches the truth so that it covers whatever he's hiding nicely. Others, he lies." She looked at me then. "If he knows it'll hurt you, or make you worry, he edits."

I stared at her. "But you won't, Alice. You won't edit." My lips threatened to tremble if I merely sat in silence. "Right?"

She frowned at the garage wall beyond the windshield, her brow dipping low in contemplation or worry.

"I won't, Bella, no," she finally said. And then she turned to me. "But I still can't tell you the truth."

I glared at her. My hand was clenching the armrest painfully hard. "Why not?"

She threw the car into reverse and backed out of the garage. "Because even I don't know it yet."

I thought about this as she drove us down the long, dark lane. Alice's visions had only been impaired a select few times. I hadn't realized how heavily I'd relied on her to protect us, or to prepare us, whichever came first, in this upcoming battle that I still vowed to somehow prevent. I hadn't realized how much I needed her to tell me good news, until I'd been faced with the fact that she couldn't, nor would she always.

I felt hopeless, and the feeling only deepened the closer I got to home, and the farther we drove from Edward.

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.  
Disclaimer? I know not the meaning of this strange, vile-sounding word.**

**Author's Note.  
And you thought I forgot about their meeting... ha! We'll hear from Edward in the next update. Jacob's got a bone to pick.. .. .. Thanks for reading! **


	13. Pack Mentality

**EDWARD CULLEN**

As Carlisle and I departed, Alice's mind reached out to me. She was worried. She wouldn't be able to watch us, and since Jasper had decided to come along for backup, she was instantly on edge. Carlisle had denied Emmett's offer of help—Jasper would remain hidden anyways, only there if needed—and for that Rosalie was thankful.

_Stay safe,_ Alice edged as we slipped out of the glass doors in the kitchen, her thoughts flashing through faces of herself, of Bella, of Esme. Bella's stuck with me as we walked, so that Carlisle and Jasper's thoughts didn't filter through as easily as they would have.

We walked in silence. Jasper found a hiding spot a mile and a half from the the clearing we'd used for battle preparations the last time, where he could still feel the meeting's emotional timbre—the werewolves' heightened emotional state made it easier for him. Jacob and Sam would know he was there, of course. But Carlisle was sure that the wolves would bring reinforcements, too.

He'd been right.

When we reached the clearing, it was surrounded by three wolves stationed regularly around the perimeter. A pitch-colored wolf stood tall and straight next to a human-bodied Jacob, his bare chest heaving with anxiety and frustration.

_Calm down, Jacob, _Sam's thoughts commanded, and although Jacob could not hear it, I knew he sensed it. I felt the tone of an edict to Sam's command. Jacob, however, was harder to read. His thoughts were too varied, too bitter and wild, to make clear sense of, and his stance—arms crossed across his chest, his spine straight, feet apart, knees slightly bent—though clearly meant to be casual, was forced and tense. Of only one thing was I certain from within his mind: Jacob was prepared for a fight.

_Leeches,_ a mind cried from our left. _Bloodsuckers_, from straight ahead. _Monsters,_ from the right. _Parasite, scum, trespassers, violaters._ The words swirled around us. Carlisle glanced at me, and I nodded.

He stood with his hands out in front of him, palms up. His voice rang across the clearing freely as the moonlight shimmered off his face. "I hope we are all capable of peace."

The black wolf's muzzle bobbed up and down once. Carlisle continued. "Since it is only us here, and no one else for whom Edward feels compelled to translate, I will allow him to take over this meeting as representative."

There was a quiet snarl from Jacob's mind. _Like he can be objective._

I chuckled without humor, staring at him. "No, I don't think I can be objective, Jacob. But neither can you. You can't see past your hatred for me because of Bella, but I don't expect that to change."

"I'm not using her infatuation as an upperhand, Cullen," he said, brow furrowed.

"Nor will you see me do the same. Bella's infatuation, as you put it, is her own business, and we're not here to discuss or negotiate that."

Carlisle's thoughts reached out. _You're doing well. Keep the conversation focused on the treaty, it'll be the best way to avoid an unneccessary fight._

I took a step towards the wolf and Jacob. "The treaty is our subject for discussion tonight, if I may be so bold as to remind you of that."

Sam's thoughts were almost calm compared to Jacob's, but his tone was sharp, final. _The treaty is resolute._

Jacob's head moved upwards, then came back down in a sharp agreement. I smiled slightly.

"The treaty has already been broken," I said. "Jacob can inform you about it; it's his story to tell."

Sam turned to look at Jacob through his canine eyes, disappointment radiating through him. But he already knew that Jacob had broken the rules. _Bella is a specal circumstance._

"Then I trust you won't mind re-negotiating the treaty. For Bella, of course."

Sam turned to stare at Carlisle and I again. _Bella has made her decision clear. She's no longer a concern of ours._

"She's a concern of mine, though," I said. Jacob snarled, a human snarl, but a snarl nonetheless. "You know her intentions. Surely, if the human wishes to be bitten…?"

"It's not her decision to make!" Jacob shouted at me.

Jasper sent a mental warning; Jacob's boiling point was dangerously low, and approacing quickly.

"I see no reason why it isn't, Jacob," I countered. "She's an adult, fully capable of making her own choices. I have no control or influence over that."

"To hell you don't_,_" Jacob spat. "Of course you have an influence over that. Do you honestly think that by forbidding her to leave Forks or refusing to let her see me, you weren't influencing her?"

I sighed. "Jacob, I thought that was for her own safety—"

"And what about you, huh?" He uncrossed his arms, his hands balled into fists. "She doesn't need to be protected from you, does she? Hell, you're only going to _kill_ her; you're not a danger to her at all, are you?"

_Back off,_ Jasper warned again. Carlise stepped forward just as I stook a miniscule step back. "Jacob, Sam… We came to negotiate the treaty. Edward and Bella's relationship is neither here nor there."

_The girl is a vital part of all of it,_ Sam countered, though Carlisle obviously couldn't hear him. _And it seems she is too much a part of Edward's life to leave their relationship out of the discussion._

"Look at it this way, Sam," I pleaded. "Bella is very much her father's child. You know Charlie, you know how stubborn he can be."

_I also know that Charlie Swan wouldn't appreciate her daughter sacrificing her soul to become a vampire for her first boyfriend._

I sighed again. "I can't argue with you. Even I don't agree with it. But Bella is. . . well, she's Bella. If she wants something, she'll fight tooth and nail until she gets it." I tried to appeal to Jacob's knowledge of her. "Jacob, you understand that, don't you? If I had any say, any at all, she would not live this life." I gestured to myself for emphasis.

Jacob seemed ready to argue, but Sam took a step forward instead, rolling upwards to stand on all fours instead of kneeling. _We do not anticipate changing the treaty._

I held my breath as I spoke, the reaction involuntary. "Breaking the treaty is not of my concern, as I will not be the one to break it." I glanced at Jacob, who bristled at the accusation that he knew he deserved. "Re-negotiating the treaty is about keeping peace with a clan that offered us much aid at a time when we sorely needed it." I took a small breath. "We cannot thank you enough for what you did for us last spring. But we come to you asking for another favor, offering our own services—our thanks you's—in return. Please."

"And what would we want with a coven of leeches like you?" Jacob spat, eyes narrowed. "Yeah, we helped you. Once. We don't owe you anything anymore."

I shook my head. "That was never my intention, to make you feel as if you owed us this favor. But Bella's… transformation… will take place, whether the Quileutes agree with it or not. We'd rather that took place with your knowledge and understanding rather than to betray your trust."

Carlisle stood still beside me; Sam's thoughts were calm, contemplative. Jacob was angry.

Jasper was tense, waiting for Jacob to strike. I read his mind; he was already forming strategies, ever the soldier. He was planning on taking out the guard wolf to the right; he was the biggest. . .

I stopped breathing again.

Which was my first mistake.

Because I couldn't smell Jacob's sudden change in hormones, the one that launched him from simply fuming to full-on flames; instead I saw the movement begin, and heard Jasper's mental and verbal shout. Jacob lunged, transforming mid-air, shreds of clothing fluttering in his wake. It would have been amazing, had he not been aimed straight for me.

I dove out of the way, landing in a crouch ten feet away; Jacob's body hit the ground with a thud and rolled smoothly into a crouch similar to mine, plus two extra legs.

_JACOB!_ Sam shouted. The other wolves were crouching now, too, their hackles raised, teeth bared, snarls rippling out from their expansive chests. Jacob's ears laid back slightly, as he bobbled, preparing to lunge again.

"Jacob," I snarled through my teeth, "stop and think for five seconds."

Carlisle had lept into the middle of the clearing, beside Sam. He was watching the snarling Jacob with a torn expression; if Jacob attacked, Carlisle would have to interfere, and there was a good chance that Jacob would be badly injured in the process; two vampires against one werewolf was not exactly a fair fight. But because he would have to, didn't mean by any stretch that he wanted to.

_Jacob, you have more than yourself to think about,_ Sam ordered. His command slapped hard against Jacob's mind; Jacob flinched, considered obeying, and then shook it off. _We're brothers; we think as a pack, we act as a pack. We don't function correctly with a missing gear._

Jacob's wolf eyes glared at me for a few more moments, before a howl pushed past his teeth, and he turned on giant paws and pushed himself into the surrounding forest. Almost three miles away, I heard the thudding of his four giant paws shift quietly into the rhythm of two human feet instead. His thoughts persisted to jab at me, though, his thoughts bitter, perhaps rash.

He was promising to wash his hands of Bella and any tie she had to me or my family; to forget about her—_just one girl_—and move past it. Bella would be an enemy when she changed, just as she should be. Vampires and werewolves had been enemies since the very beginning, since the tale of the third wife and the Cold Woman and the spirit warriors. Jacob Black and Bella Swan wouldn't change that.

_But if only we could. . ._

Those were his thoughts.

Sam brought me back to the conversation at hand. _The treaty still stands, for now. Until the moment we deem it unneccessary—or Jacob deems it uneccessary—the treaty will be enforced as it was originally written._

And then he turned and jogged away on his four great paws, the rest of the wolves—still snarling with the anticipation of the almost-fight—following closely behind. Their thoughts still swirled around me, until the mass of random strains began to focus onto one central idea. Carlisle turned to me with a slightly hopeful expression. I shook my head.

"What is it, Edward? They're going to look at the treaty, contemplate changing it; surely that's a good thing?"

I exhaled sharply. "No, Carlisle, nothing's changed."

Carlisle moved, reaching towards me. Before his hand could make contact, Jasper had appeared to his left; his expression was fierce, his tawny eyes blazing.

"Edward," he said, voice pointed and razor-sharp. I nodded.

"I know." I turned back to Carlisle. "Nothing's changed, because the wolves are still planning to attack. And," I finished, staring off in the direction the wolves had disappeared, "our fates all rest on Jacob now."

Because the pack wasn't relying on Sam to command them to attack anymore. It seemed Jacob had finally assumed his leadership role in the pack, which explained why Sam's edicts rolled off Jacob without any effect, like rainwater off a pane of glass.

The pack was waiting for Jacob's command, and the moment Jacob came back with a single ill-wish against Bella or myself would suffice.

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.  
I have a laptop, without which this chapter would not exists, so that counts as ownership in my book. But as for the meaningful stuff, like the Misters Cullen, I am ownership-less. Boo.**

**Author's Note.  
You know, I'm really running low on things to say in my AN's. Yikes!**

I guess that means I could use this space here to thank my readers and reviewers -- thanks, you guys, the reviews mean so much to me. I owe you all, seriously, a giant pineapple and a fluffy little black goat. Honestly, they're the cutest things ever.


	14. Giving Up

**BELLA SWAN**

Alice had dropped me off in the driveway, avoiding my gaze and instead looking up at the illuminated porch light, a sign from Charlie.

"Tell him I say hi," she said, her tone clear. I nodded and shut the door of the car. I turned towards the house, but the sound of the power window rolling down stopped me.

"Bella?"

I turned. She gave me a pleading look. "Be careful."

I took a deep breath before nodding. She rolled the window back up and then reversed and sped away. I watched the silver car move with precision and grace. Once she was out of sight I faced the house again.

In between the front door and myself sat my ancient, loyal truck, a sentinel of sorts. Protector and friend. I almost laughed at the thought of my truck being like a golden retriever, but then a glorious and enlightening idea struck.

Of course, Alice wouldn't be happy. In turn, Edward wouldn't be happy when Alice told him.

Or maybe Alice already knew. That might explain her expression before she'd left.

Either way, I fished my key out of my front pocket and jumped into the driver's seat. The loud engine greeted me like a warm embrace. I was buzzing as I pulled out of the driveway, hoping that the negotiations were over or that Jacob had made it home by some means.

I navigated through Forks and the winding, twisted roads that led to La Push carefully. With the memories of my dreams still lingering in my head, I did not want to reenact them.

When I crossed the invisible boundary line--a line I had somehow come to recognize almost subconciously—I could feel myself relax slightly. At least the chances of Edward catching me and trying to stop me were lessened significantly.

I found the little red house quickly and pulled my truck into its driveway. Once the sound of the engine had died away, I found myself hesitating with one hand on the key still in the ignition, the other on the door handle, peering at the house and the tall figure that had just appeared in the window.

Jacob yanked back the curtains to peer at me and my offensively loud truck, expression set in a scowl. As soon as his eyes roamed from the truck to the person behind the wheel, I jumped into action; my left hand released the door handle and my feet hit the muddy ground with a squish.

Jacob released the curtains, letting them sway back into place. He met me at the door and wrenched it open before I could knock.

Before I could say anything his mouth was moving. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Jacob, I wanna talk."

He growled. "It's too late for talking, Bella, you've already made up your mind."

I glared up at him. "So?"

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed. "So there's no point anymore, none. Anything I have to say to you won't make any difference now."

He backed away and the door swung shut hard. Indignant, I stared at the wooden door before I raised a furious fist to hammer on it. "Jacob, open up!"

Silence. Not even footsteps from within the house.

"Jacob, I know you're there."

Nothing.

"Jacob Black, I swear to God—"

The sky above me opened up and a vicious crack of lightning made me jump and I emitted a high-pitched squeak. I glanced up at the oil-black sky and redoubled my efforts.

"Jacob! You can't honestly say that you're even _thinking_ about leaving me out here!"

There was a sound of movement from the other side of the door. "You could always go home, you know."

I laughed. "No, Jacob, I came to talk to you and I'm not leaving until I've done just that. I'll sleep on your front porch, so that you have to step over me in the morning. If that's what it takes for you to acknowledge me."

Raindrops began to hurtle towards the ground now; a few glanced off my arm, sending shivers down my spine with each new attack, but there was still no answer from Jacob.

I pounded on the door with both of my fists, as hard as I could without hurting myself.

The sprinkle turned into a downpour in a matter of moments. I didn't try to shield myself from the water, I just kept pounding on the door.

"Go home, Bella!" Jake's voice was pleading. It broke my heart.

"No, Jake! Just talk to me!" I had to yell to be heard over the rain.

"You're going to make yourself sick."

"Like I said, if that's what it takes!"

A few more seconds of rain tapping the house, the sidewalk, the windows, and then there was a growl from within. The door yanked open and Jacob appeared in the doorway, glaring down at me.

"You're pretty stupid, you know that?" he hissed, before stepping aside to let me in. I squished out of my boots—my socks were still thankfully dry—and stood there, dripping. Jacob disappeared for a moment and then reappeared with a fluffy, multi-colored towel; he threw this at me and then retreated to the far end of the room, arms across his chest.

"Thanks," I muttered, toweling off my face. I imagined I looked like a water-logged labrador. "And if I need to resort to desperate measures to get through to you, then so be it."

He muttered something incoherent, before moving to lean against the farthest wall from me. I sighed, giving up my efforts to dry off.

"Look, Jake, I came here to apologize."

He barely moved, but for a cocked eyebrow. I glanced around the room.

"Where's Billy?" I figured if I asked questions he'd feel obliged to talk. At least to an extent.

"The Clearwaters'."

"Oh. Good," I said, taking a step forward; but as soon as my foot landed on the floor, he straightened up and backed away. Frustrated, I let out a growl of my own.

"Jacob, what's the point behind all this?" I cried. "Why do you want me to change my mind so badly, and yet, when I'm here, when I'm right in front of you begging you to listen, you're so _damn_ _stubborn?"_

His arms uncrossed, a sign that he was getting involved. "I don't know, Bella, you tell me!" His voice ripped through the room. "You tell me what the point is, because I'm drawing a blank too!" His chest was heaving; he was deeply upset. He stared at me for a few minutes before he huffed out a breath and broke eye contact.

"I thought you came to apologize."

My tearducts began to prickle, so I turned to look at the wall to my right instead of him. "I thought I did, too."

There was silence in the room, loud and thick, for five whole minutes; we stood resolutely, neither of us moving but for an inch or two. After the interminable quiet, Jacob sighed.

"I can't do this anymore."

By the time I looked up, he was already in his bedroom and shutting the door.

"No, Jake, wait!" I cried, but the door shut anyways. My palms landed flat against the door.

"I never wanted it to end like this, Jake," I said quietly. I knew he'd hear me. I hadn't expected him to answer.

"You already know how I wanted the story to go," he said. "And I can't stand seeing you when I know it's probably going to be the last time I see you alive."

I laid my forehead against the door. "You're still my best friend, Jake."

He was silent for a while, and then spoke. "Things are going to change, Bella. I can't love you anymore. What I am won't allow it."

"That's not true," I pleaded. "What you feel isn't determined by _what_ you are, but _who_ you are. And who you are is a good person. I know we can find a way around this, Jake. We just have to try."

It was absolutely quiet in the little red house. The only sound I heard was my own heart within my chest.

But, damn it all, Jacob was giving up before the fight had even begun. He was allowing himself to feel what a tradition was telling him to, not what _he_ wanted. What would be so different about he and I when I was a vampire? I'd smell different to him. My diet would change, and my skin would get a little paler. But I was still Bella, and he was still my Jacob, no matter what conventions told me about his kind. We were Bella Swan and Jacob Black. We had overcome darker hours than these—my zombie months, his wicked and sudden transformation, Victoria's attack.

I was right. We'd get better…

Right?

"Jake, I just…" I sighed. "I just want to know we can still love each other. Even if it's in our own, messed up way. I want to know that tonight won't be the last night we ever see each other." I took a deep breath, my voice shaking. My throat was getting dry and sore. "I want you to be there, for all of it."

The only sounds were the howling winds outside and the pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof. I let the tears spill over my lashes. There wasn't any way I could've stopped them if I wanted to.

I sighed again, the breath coming out shaky and uneven. Jake was giving up.

I figured, I might as well give up too.

Just then, the door I was leaning against gave way beneath my hands and I fell into a warm, soft embrace.

And before I could stop to regain my balance, my lips were met with Jacob's.

And everything I'd been feeling – anger at him for not listening, sadness that he was admitting defeat, love for the only real friend I'd ever had, love for My Jacob – was all spelled out on his lips. And I tasted every inch of it, every smile we'd ever shared, every laugh or argument. Every teardrop. Salty, bitter. My tears, still running down my cheeks. The fresh rainwater that was still slowly trailing down my face from my hair.

It was Jacob and Bella. And that kiss said everything I wanted to know.

When Jake pulled away a minute later, he was frowning, his eyes still closed. I blinked the tears out of my eyes so I could see clearer.

"Jake, what is it?"

He shook his head and held my face between his warm palms. He looked me straight in the eyes, tilting my head upwards to meet his gaze.

"I don't think I can stand seeing you every day and knowing I can't have this," he said, with such intensity that my tears redoubled. "And seeing you like them—all pale and glimmering and different—will only point out to me that you're _his_. Every hour of every day."

I shook my head and clamped my hands around his wrists. "But I'm still your friend, Jake!" I cried meekly. "I'm still your Bella, I always will be."

He shook his head slowly and then pressed his lips to my forehead gently. I couldn't find it in me to feel ashamed of my loud sobs.

He released me, and in a second he had breezed through the house, out the back door in the kitchen. I stared after him for about ten minutes before I pulled myself together enough to drive half-way decently.

Before I left, though, I picked up the phone hanging on the wall and dialed Alice's number. She'd worry if I didn't let her know what was happening. And I really needed some alone time to sort things out; Edward didn't need to see this. I'd promised myself he wouldn't see me cry over Jacob again; I was going to try to keep my promise by avoiding him at all costs.

"Bella, is this you? Where are you?"

I closed my eyes upon hearing her slightly frantic tone. "I'm fine, I'm at Jake's house—"

She cut me off mid-sentence. "Get back to Forks, _now._" Her voice was hard. "We need to talk."

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.  
Ick.**

**Author's Note.  
Hola!!! Please review!! Thanks! **

(Sorry, lacking inspiration at the moment.)


	15. Alice's View

**BELLA SWAN**

I drove back as quickly and carefully as I could. My tears had dried up immediately once I realized Alice was panicking. My sorrow had turned to fear.

What had she seen? Not me, because I was with Jake; that automatically made me a blind spot. That fact didn't calm me, though.

I reached Forks in a matter of ten minutes and headed home, as Alice had instructed. It must have been an emergency, because she'd pulled her pristine yellow Porsche out of the Cullen garage; it was now sitting in front of my house, a neon flashing sign screaming, "Look at me!"

As I pulled into the driveway and climbed out of my truck, the driver's side door of the Porsche flew open and Alice slid out of the seat.

"Get in," she instructed, and held the passenger side open for me. I fumbled my way into the low car and she sped around to the other side, super-human speed and all. I glanced up at the front of my house, for peering eyes.

"Alice, won't Charlie—"

"He's asleep," she said, and slid the gearshift into drive. The car purred and Alice pulled away, speeding down the road in the car which was surprisingly quiet.

Once we were sufficiently en route to the Cullen house, Alice turned to me.

"Bella, I need to know everything that happened tonight."

I watched her silently for a few minutes, until I realized I couldn't stall any longer. "Jake and I talked, he got mad, he ran off."

She shot my a sideway glare. "That's everything?"

I nodded meekly. Lying wouldn't last for long but, damn it, was she really going to make me admit to it? I was already beginning to feel bad about myself as is.

We kept driving. I frowned when we drove past the turn-off for her house, but didn't say anything. Once we were out of town, Alice drove 95 for about ten minutes, until choosing a random side road to pull onto. She shut the car off but remained facing forward.

"Alice, why are we out here?"

"We had to get somewhere were Edward couldn't read my mind as easily."

I looked around. On either side of us were tall, intimidating forests; ahead, a long, dark stretch of backroad.

"Alice, what's happened?"

She sighed. "Several things."

I watched her in silence for a few moments before she spoke again. Her voice was recitative.

"Not long after I left you at your house, you went blank. I knew where you were going, of course. I'd gotten a glimpse of you making up your mind in the car, before I think you ever realized you were thinking about it. I didn't tell Edward; I blocked him out. Babbling on about wedding details.

"But then everything went blank. Your entire future was gone. You see," she paused to look at me, "lately, especially after the whole Victoria fiasco, I've still been able to see your future if there was a roadblock in the way of your present. It's a distant future, but you're still there, a little fuzzy around the edges but resolute. But for some reason," she said, her eyes hardening, "you completely disappeared. As if something had changed, you were considering some other option."

I stared out the windshield, seeing nothing. Thinking.

As if I'd considered some other option. At about the time that I kissed Jake…

Had I really? Had I given myself up to a life with Jacob in that instant, had I changed my mind so abruptly, that Alice's vision had gone absolutely blank? And I didn't even realize it?

No, because I'd come back. I came back, and I was going to marry Edward in just two weeks. I _had_ married Edward; I was already his. I was still as irrevocably in love with Edward as I always had been, and was still dead-set on becoming a true part of his family.

But when I had kissed Jacob… had I considered the other option?

I could feel Alice's eyes on me, but I still didn't turn.

"Damn it, Bella," Alice said, her voice quiet. It shocked me, to hear her curse. "Bella, you have to tell me. I have to _know._ Because whatever it is, whatever happened in La Push tonight? It's changed everything."

Surprised, my head snapped in her direction, almost of its own accord. I stared at her blankly.

"But, it couldn't have," I stuttered. "Jake… Jake left, but he wasn't mad at me… he was mad at himself, I think. But, still, Alice, things can't have changed so much—"

Alice's eyes slid closed, and she leaned her head against the headrest. A sign of weakness. I held my breath.

"Whatever happened, it's changed the future." Her eyes popped open and she looked at me. "The _near_ future. I saw it; we were getting ready for battle."

I exhaled. "But, Alice, why would he allow the pack to attack? He kissed me, Alice," I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth. Alice slowly sat up straight, eyes trained on me. I kept talking. "He told me that he didn't think we could be friends, but he wasn't _mad_, he was just upset. Why would he change his mind, why now?"

And even as I asked the question, I realized the answer. Because he wasn't giving up, like I'd thought at his house earlier.

He was redoubling his efforts.

"He's going to try and win me back," I said, smiling because I'd figured it out on my own. "He's absolutely mental, of course, but that's what he's doing—he's staging an attack to challenge _Edward_, not to try and kill us or because we broke the treaty—"

"Bella, he kissed you?"

I nodded, but didn't answer her. I was too busy analyzing my realization; Jacob was trying to win me over, convince me to stay human and to join him, to love him. Him kissing me was a test: If he kissed me, and I kissed him back, that meant he still had a chance.

Stupid me didn't realize it at the time. Stupid me had given him the green light to declare war on my husband.

My good mood at solving the mystery myself evaporated.

"Bella, _did you kiss him back?_"

Her tone was dangerous; I looked at her warily.

"Alice, you have to understand—"

"Answer the question, Bella."

I nodded meekly. Alice let out a long, low hiss, and I cowered into my seat.

"Alice, please," I begged, tears prickling at my eyes. "I know what I did was wrong, I know it. And I know Edward will be devastated… but Jacob caught me off-guard—"

"Did you ever think of telling him no?" Her tone was cool.

I buried my head in my hands. "Alice, _please. _I know what it sounds like. I know what it _looks_ like." I looked up at her, tears streaming down my face. "But I honestly can't justify what happened. Because it did happen, and I can't change that now."

Something in her expression softened, and she sighed, running her fingers through her short, spiky hair. "Bella… I don't know what to tell you."

I shook my head and put a hand to my mouth to stop a sob that threatened to escape.

"How sure are you about Jacob's intentions?" she asked, her voice quiet.

I sniffled. "Almost positive," I muttered. I glanced up to check Alice's expression. She was staring out the windshield, thinking. Her silence, her hesitance in providing the answers, scared me. "Alice? Is this good or bad?"

She siged. "I don't know." She looked at me. "It means… it'll be harder to dissuade him from his decision."

Damn him and his stubbornness. Why couldn't he realize that I was _Edward's,_ that I would be forever indebted to everything Jacob had ever done for me but that I could never leave Edward for any other option, no matter how great it seemed?

A small voice in the corner of my mind answered me back. _It could have been easier if you hadn't kissed him back._

Everything would be so much easier.

"I have to talk to him," I said, my voice thick with tears. "Alice, we have to find Jacob and talk to him. Now."

She didn't look at me. "You're on your own. I can't cross the boundary."

"Forget the damn boundary," I said, annoyed. "That treaty doesn't mean anything now, Alice. If we don't talk to him, and soon, it won't matter, nothing will."

She sighed and looked up at me, finally. "What if it doesn't work?"

I fixed her with a determined look. "We have to try. Otherwise it's over before it's begun."

She watched me for a few more moments. And as terrified as I was that I had just cemented my family's fate with the wolves, I set my expression as determined as I could. After a while, her eyes hardened and her jaw locked into place; she threw the Porsche into reverse, back onto the highway, and then began speeding too quickly toward La Push and the boundary. The sparse silver moonlight that cast itself through the cloud cover found her features at random curves, bending around the tall canopy of trees to reach her. Her face was lit in harsh shadow-relief in brief glimpses, and I found myself genuinely terrified, both of her and for her.

-- -- --

**Discliamer.  
I own nothing but a well-used (aka slightly beaten) laptop and an internet connection that is very picky (aka sucks.)**

**Author's Note.  
We'll hear from Jacob's POV once again in the next chapter, so stay tuned! Hopefully there won't be as long of a wait on it. **

**Thanks to readers & reviewers, y'all are loverly. =)**


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